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                sat facing into the
                garden centre café
too engineered to make some poetic observation
                                away from where I sit

                                … swap round

                sit looking out the window (back
to the lapping of hubbub and plastic clunk and sprintle cutlery and – there it is – the trayk of cups and saucer)            
                at the calm
and constant rain falling in a five o’clock direction
                the run-off down the path
                                past the yellow caution plaque


posted while listening to ‘Lazarus‘ by David Bowie, on a darkening mid-afternoon November-day with the overhead lights all on; written over two years previously in the Wych Cross cafe on Ashdown Forest not knowing which way to turn




being wormhole: Prajnaparamita // Maitreya
looking wormhole: beepbeep
poetry wormhole: chartless …
rain wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow
sound & yellow wormhole: woven-through
windows wormhole: be
writing wormhole: Sylvia