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I wandered lonely as a smog –
across beige expanse with beige dog –
Womb rhythm waves strolled ashore –
My feet + senses lapped up some more –
Dust rose, blew, blue orange hue –
A bullfinch rose, dropped rose as he flew –
and it all seemed muddled but clear and new –
The jellyfish, massive, yielding, beached –
The only things that death had reached –
on this expanse of calmness, tranquillity –
a simple amble down by the Sea –
how far to we go? a yard or a mile –
Crab pinches dog’s nose, worth a smile –
Dusk descends, so says eye of my socket –
I fold the Stars and put them in my pocket.

From ‘The Little Black Book’, 23-06-’93.

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Now I’ve got my left lense out

The crescent moon blur seems to shout

this is how you always see

the world about and those around me.

Bifocal still but not complete

Clear / Crystalline / blurred compete.

I see alot, maybe more than most?

But remaining still the untold ghost

an image there, an outline here

What exactly it is remains unclear.

Judge Distance, perceive good and woe

Still you’re fucked if you know what you don’t know.

The both lenses out, all is gone.

Ignorance or Apathy which I sometimes don.

Soon, All needful knowledge I’ll win:

Next morning lenses go back in.

 

From ‘The Little Black Book’, 20-6-1992

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