Sentences

I walk among the rock-streets
Of Cambridge
Among the chalk walls
The taste of winter
On my tongue
My laugh, the song of the city
Taking on the rain
Taking in the walker
The traffic makes its own
Curse: forgetfulness.

The column of words I see:
Another black on white poster
The alley blocked by trash cans
More memories
The smells of cats in heat
The only way into the theatre
Of the imagination:
Escape from a prose morning
Forsake guilt
Give up the ache
Await fortitude.

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/15/2010 11:28PM by petersz.

I like this reflection, Peter, especially these lines:

Escape from a prose morning
Forsake guilt


Les

Thanks, Les.

Still investigating whatever I might be.

Peter