Wednesday, 5. September 2007
Hopscotch
You began in one country.
Attempted transcendence in a second.
Failed, for inscrutable reasons, in
a third (where homelessness began).
Pick up your slip of stone, and stand outside the grid. Know that there will be other less desperate, dispiriting hours.
Know also that the stone is your heart, which will insist on being played again and again till it is nothing but dust in the palm of a raindrop.
My Poems
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