Saturday, 30 May 2009

Day Two

The motorway is a day beleaguered
by a bloated greedy slob of a sun,
all rolls of heat that flob and slop the skin.

Two trees without a single leaf
like arms reaching from a soily grave,
skin melted into dry bone.

A journey like the space between language and thought:
undefinable and confusing, with an end
that might be a beginning, a long sentence
of road that started with a full stop.

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