Saturday, 14 February 2015

Bright

primary colours. Bright day-glow primary colours
leaping away from the clothing and associated
by a distance
with these walking bodies.

On the grey to grey horizon, red lights lifted high,
the cranes beginning work

wondering if the winds will pick up.

Yesterday I invented a memory.
A memory of colour.

This memory is real now.

Yesterday I invented a memory.
Today I invented a memory.
Tomorrow I invent forgetting and the fog 

which we must re-paint soon.

Rolling back the metal floor, how difficult it was for me to leave
these habituated situations whose perfume
I presumed I was enjoying.



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