To see the sky
with no tangent
vapours marking
its jetted limits…
To see the land
unboxed, its concertina
scars flooded
and weeping…
To see the mirror-straits
deepest stars, like lagan
lanterns guiding salmon
to spawn…
To sit unseen in lost
habitats among
the spectres of lives
forgotten…
To breathe in…
unhindered.
Rockall Mugs | Will… on It’s Pissing Down On… | |
Peak 3 (Stillborn) |… on Alderley Edge | |
erroneouschoices on Brittle (for Greg) | |
hana on Succotash | |
Will on Nairn |
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