blood spots
no-one
comes
as the
pen
strips the page of
content
The caterpillar crawls along the ragged road.
words are
birds in their
cages free
skimmed like
stone out
the window the palm
conducts the strings &
wind for the vines that
bow on the terraces
shadows blow
are chained
to their symbol
a blink
in the dense everything
that is
‘chained to their symbol’ works well for me
thanks Dean