Thursday, January 19, 2006
the origins in your past of what you had become
| were never in any of the places I had not been to secondary roads we took to escape not to find no possibility whatever you said that the uniform green leaves of summer would start to turn into autumnal colours of an action to stay in one place: this the only possibility which still exists, a real continuity, endless possibilities homes never to be honoured because, now recognised and congealed into fact: your free hand touched the animal despite Baxter Black's advice this not a beast drawn at random but who you are now: a trip which wasn't planned and which we didn't apparently fall into: Eastern North and deep South alike you were made homeless, forced out at gunpoint knowing already eight seconds is all you've got you can hide but you can't keep on running |
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