Sunday, 1 April 2018

recoil to know

from all the motorway’s blinking lights
i recoil. 
from all the lorry drivers 
and all the van men on their way to fast work 
i recoil.
from the factory’s smoking stacks, 
and the trains and planes and noise and all
i recoil.
i prefer 
to sit with a book of poems,
alone in the shadow of a light’s silence, 
as the sun drags down the world and all, 
i sit chewing on the lemon words,
or alight upon the honey meadows,
and i know 
that this is how life should be. 

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