Tags
1966, 2016, age, being, birth, Bowie, death, doing, fall, future, living, meaning, offering, planning, walls, work, writing
seventy two, perhaps
it got to my birth and
there was nothing to write
it got to the start and there
were nothing but tin walls
it got to make sense but
there was nothing but planning
it got time to work but
no time to be
it came time to proffer with
only two steps to fall
and now it is the future
and I wonder when it will
all
just
stop
serendipitously bounced from Come And Buy My Toys, 1966, and the wordage on the page
Read the collected movements in David Bowie: Movements in Suite Major
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
being wormhole: and then just stop
Bowie & walls wormhole: 1966 … actually sic // of it allllll-bsssssssh – poewieview #8
death wormhole: London Park in Greenwich town – poewieview #5
doing & work wormhole: spit / spot
living wormhole: because
meaning & writing wormhole: no point
mlewisredford 
perhaps 72.
Your poem rocks in my head, it is squared sized shape.
Just sounds amazing and looks
quiet beautiful !
Thank you for your thoughts!
Silvia
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thank you very much, Silvia; I took a chance with this – your response has reassured me
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