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something new

I long for you

in winter, sing

of fall in spring;


head south, north;

by north; west

across continents,


the oceans of

india, arabian

seas. I was


a sailor, Trojan

slain; and from

the remains a Roman


soldier in the days

of Etruscan Kings.

Perhaps i


next time re-live

this my town

these last 20


years; submit

to some two

hundred bars and


a museum, turn

that into art,

again, i want


out of it, til

then i won’t

rest, haunting


the stairs, thinking

always there’s

something here


i’ve missed, face

pressed to the pane,

passed the slate


roofs, the rain-

laden evergreens.

As the sparrows


in the guttering

sing (?) i think of

nothing which is


all one to me.


11-12 September 2015

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