1307
31.vii.23
4.213
the afterlife of everything
for ghost writing
I love the second wind of things
breath – how it goes around the world
spring onions come again
the water bottle that was rum
a river will be sea
things long since written off
paper tablet I scrape back
paint over, go once more
two cans and string were once a phone
we yearn for such simple constituents
things living, now call breakfast
the hero a ghost of the field of Mars
loves long lost
found back in the bed
in your head
rub through the map
to another world
the old ideas return
the go again dead of certain religions
some of us will survive anything
though good time will take us all
a new nap
wake refreshed from that
and these words
you see recycled here
they will fit other minds and maws
neither created nor destroyed
the energy of pure delight
necessary meaning
these atoms all go on
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