Poems

Survivors

A bird, as if knowing where it is going, gliding perfectly
through
one straight line

the dazzlingly blue sky the sliding bird made while passing
through

that afternoon sky under which I wanted to become mad
postmodernly

people who were unable to find seats were standing at the
entrance of a restaurant
forming no queue.

2 Comments

1 Tom Fleet

Survivors, Hungering

Gliding perfectly straight, now there’s a bird  knows where it’s going

The sky shimmering blue, rendered by it in passing

The afternoon beneath, turning delirious and postmodernly so

People too late for tables stood lineless at the door

2 bindi

amazing!

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