Pick up my wings and fly

into a Constable sky.

Look down on the world and try

to make you out on the distant ground.

Lonely toy in a lost toy-town.

Suspended in spiral sounds---

Sounds of circular breathing.



I'm a kite on a silver thread.

Daring lightning to strike me dead.

Harsh echoes of things you said

banished me to a thinner space

with unholy ghosts of your bedroom face.

Hands cupped to my ears to place

the sound of circular breathing.



Matchbox cityscape below----

I watch Lowry matchstick figures go.

Caught in the timeless flow of discreet silence.