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London ­
this city

threshold of light

engulfed in a shadow
of the dark
wandering off

water clots
wrap the brown roofs white

thin thaws nip
the foot off
the bank

the arms of the bridge­

fear it's formless
and of spaces

the smoothed ground sliding
to choose a home which
just spins where it's pointing

­ where else
to walk back through

but through
here ­

words covered her
like flakes

soft ­ so white small
all light padding all
over her



snow cloaked
dawn dust rain
lime terrain the towers (Westminster)
watch the clock seen standing

there as one stands
hard hands spread heaving
thick foam yet not bent a strong arm without telling
anything either

beneath the storm
shrouds of
green snow stain
the flat blade

yes a green slice
of time (a

numeral instance

the face


space / sound
our job

to find the ground
which flakes

between them -
(as in words
worlds where
but to live?)


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