What I Think About When I Think About What I’m Thinking About

A black cat in the shadows
Or a pile of unworn workshoes.

Exhausted, sad and pyjama’d.
By sail or steam you clamber
Out, and into your dayclothes
Covered in eyelashes.

Around you the house is –
Bricks creaking, moss weeping.

Big black charcoal circles.
You hum loud as you can –
Candlestick music –
Not afraid of everything.

Slowly fit-fit-fitting.
All movements are structures.

All moments are glass
All places are rubble
Close your eyes and you
Are out of time and space.

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