Thursday, September 03, 2009

Prompts September 03:02

When men die far away it is like sand settling, dust

In the room the women come, and usually go


Through certain streets, dusty, deserted

Do not ask what it is

The corners of evening


A far sound, something falls, something breaks


It was a soft September night, almost October

There is always time

It’s a freaking waste-land

To murder and create

Do I Dare? Do I Dare?

I decide to revise

I pin you, you squirm

Old men collecting fag-ends

Full Moon

Basically, I was afraid

My mind creaks, like melting ice

The universe in a grain of sand

Mr Spock I presume?

After the cups, the marmalade, a little toast


Reading Annie

They think they’re all grown up now

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