Windows
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a teacher, a bottle and a batch of fairytales
a sodden storyteller
rambles rich repeats
to overgrown children
I am in a sudden playback
of crayon-aroma classrooms
shiny school shoes
and unprotected eyes
ll
flat 202 london house
somebody’s grandfather knocked on my door
at 10 am Wednesday
what the hell for
check suit and bow tie
greased back and groomed
with the sharp scent of liquor perfumed
lll
entry
I just died once more
in the arms of one I love
a part of me is stalking
a New York street
in pink stilletto heels
and I cry for those painted eyes
lV
perspective
mountains are plains
outs are inns
when fervoured by belief
a bottle
an altered vision
a pencil
lead potential
flesh and bone
a container of mastery
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