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                                   is there
                                   to see in a
                                   small town
                                   back street car
                                   park before a bolted
                                   galvanised railing with
                                   rust just breaking through
                                   behind the smooth bottle-green lines
                                   of a Volvo

                                                     but between
                                   the single curled leaf of a
                                   weed shaking in the cold wind





cars wormhole: open window
Crowborough wormhole: tag cloud poem IV – C
green & wind wormhole: on sitting / in front of / a hedge
seeing wormhole: ‘I can hear it raining / but cannot see it …’