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                                          on sitting
                                          in front of
                                          a hedge

                there’s nothing to see
                at first, but you keep sitting
                and looking, well there are
                colourful plants rising behind
                dusky pink and mauve and yellow
                conifer-tops beyond

                no, stay looking at the hedge

                OK well the rain switter’s across
                the windscreen veining vaguely within the arched wiper zones
                slowly obscuring and reflecting
                                the hedge away

                still, keep looking at the hedge

                movements of the wind shift the
                grasses grown tall and the hanging
                bramble stem obscene and reaching for advantage
                                probing air

                no, the hedge, the hedge

                has been cut
                during the last month
                some sort of bindweed growing up through it
                in patches hairy new-growth rilled along the top

                OK, not finished, keep looking

                and new-green creeping out the edges
                of the oldgreen and shadow navels other shapes
                stark and clearer because they
                have turned caramac brown and have

                alright now, time’s up





air & brown wormhole: emerged
death wormhole: ‘when it came / time to go …’
green & yellow wormhole: no hat
hedge wormhole: prologue
looking wormhole: titanic
mauve wormhole: moon
pink wormhole: there
rain wormhole: ‘I can hear it raining / but cannot see it …’
shadow wormhole: in the middle of silence and heat:
sitting wormhole: I will eventually drift tectonic
wind wormhole: I find / you find your bones / on the outbreath
windscreen wormhole: Seaford / 280310