Thursday, 28 August 2008

Trying to Make Marks (extract)

The rock fought back
spitting grey dust into eyes that streamed tears
streams that soaked into the dust and pocks of my cheeks.
Rocks like salt soar up and shoot a cacophony of fireworks
each having an end note too loight to hear and too fine to see
but it's there because what has changed 
and what has been left
shows that many things have parted  and even a kiss from 100 miles away would do
not damage 
but change
and bring down the wall and turn it to firma.

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