Pome: I Drink A Bottle Of Cooled Water Stood By The Bins In The Sun And There Can Be Zilcho Else

Apart from you telling me who you are

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A sky like the earth was painted fresh this morn. Pic: Paradisio Publishing

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I Drink A Bottle Of Cooled Water Stood By The Bins In The Sun And There Can Be Zilcho Else

apart from a disused yard with scraps of metal laid about like graves

a patch of grass untrodden for half a century

the elderly woman reawakened to the sound of church bells

a thesaurus found in the old library

seeing the ghosts of the kids the homeless once were

hot summer air and treading the stars in the night only you dream