Thursday, 23 July 2009



desolate windy waste

it coming in up the valley
from sun going down place

ablaze and bloody
streaks reaching out to us

on the green corner
the chances pitch

amid litter of broken plastic
exposed entrails dark

shadow of hedgerow

what has become unrecognisable
with each throw of the dice

further up the road more trouble
so we count ourselves
fortunate to stand thus

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