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It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
Modern Verse For The Railway
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Vertically they have gone to see the horizon
Not under foreign skies
Nor under foreign wings protected -
I shared all this with my own people
There, where misfortune had abandoned us.
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,
its white flag waving over everything,
the landscape vanished,
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,
Although it is a cold evening,
down by one of the fishhouses
an old man sits netting,
his net, in the gloaming almost invisible,
you haven't lived
until you've been in a
with nothing but one
In the pond in the park
all things are doubled:
Long buildings hang and
wriggle gently. Chimneys
When all of a sudden the city air filled with snow,
the distinguishable flakes
looked like krill
It is a cramped little state with no foreign policy,
Save to be thought inoffensive. The grammar of the language
Has never been fathomed, owing to the national habit
Of allowing each sentence to trail off in confusion.
The walls have come out of doors
Narrows are the passages, many are the footprints
On the steep rock where the sun lies half reclined
Jumping over one's shadow, falling headlong
On a school trip to Paris
you slept upon my shoulder
and I dared not move for hours
sleepy Sanae, sat up late again
Sailing with my love to the Italian Cinque Terre, we pass houses set into cliffs of many colours like an artists palate set on an azure sea. Old buildings washed by the sun, all life is here washing strung along the streets, among fishing nets and little boats tied up for the day. Sitting by the bay we have some wine and watch a groom carry his bride from the chapel into the sea laughing and embracing the moment.
Tuscan hilltop villages with honey coloured ancient buildings, old people dressed in black sitting outside in a summer morning knitting and church bells ringing. Sitting in a cafe watching life go by such moments are etched in my minds eye. Memories sweet like wine, quiet thoughts of Italy.
What can money, gold and diamonds do when one is caught by heavy storm
With floods occupying and inundating buildings and skyscrapers due to
water-bodies are occupied by buildings everywhere with no way for flood
Water to drain and go out on its natural course to the sea finally...?
How white and bright were the lovely days
When tall buildings were rarely seen
No obstacle for the dancing naughty sea breeze
That moved like ecstatic girls of nice nineteen.
Hurricanes are massive…they devastate cities, homes…and more.
But hurricanes are natural disasters…we can't stop them from coming ashore.
We have come to realize that hurricanes, swirling off the water, are the norm…
One day the Hillbrow Tower started to cry.
Real tears poured down its sides
collected in the gutters,
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