Monday, May 18, 2015


I walk the street
a miserable ribbon
tied around my head;
the shackling blinker
black as the vision
that it intercedes.

I cannot see
the boundary of the path
where traffic bites,
nor the rushing pedestrian,
who does not see me.
But I manoeuvre
an unseen Morris
as I maypole
along the path;
a phantom tethered
by yesterdays.

I am Canute
and the unimpressed tide
does not see me.

I am homeless
in the beggar-land
of the shadows.

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