the baton is beating

the past is retreating

birds carry crumb of crust

to the nest 

next is a tumble of bread from the


truth in a turnaround tray catches this

the golden glimmer of a sun on the leaf of a palm

ignites the timber and watches a soul fuelled by fire

alarm as it furies up into the sky Icarus finding

heights it will soon melt out of sight as it felt fall and

hinders collapses and ‘timber’ rock-toes target ground

and gravity shouts and feathers depart to make way 

for a watery art the depth of an ocean

a one-way token

to the travels of ego and the pains of the





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