Reverie for Tommy Lawrence
¶ 1
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can’t say won’t say too hot
and the trees are flashing a silver signal:
i am a red-eyed dove
the breeze a suggestive flailing hiss
my eyes heavy with yawning
where next is there anywhere left
to save
oh forgotten legend
oh gentleman
oh flying pig
and the world doesn’t matter any
more than it always has or hasn’t
while we’re slipping not even reluctantly
into a weight of life which we call death
becoming the compost for more and more
of this scratching that we say is tomorrow
but has always been and will always be
right now
¶ 2
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Harry Owen
10 January 2018
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