Saturday 6 August 2011


Persistent rain thrums outside my window,
What delicious music. 
So much so that I can't tell the difference between waking and sleeping.
Yet an acutely sensitive awareness and a body lie in a warm bed.
Thoughts are extruded in word form and land on a page.

What does he know?
What knows him?
Ah, the sheer impenetrable mystery of it.

The jockey stays loyal to the horse,
The horse to the jockey.
As they round the bend
Both vanish like exhausted smoke.

What is left cannot be discussed.

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