How the world turns:
clouds inch their torn edges 
across the blue
and the wind blows 
alternately angry and mellow

down here, balancing
a pinpoint of time
I read a book by Conrad
and I dream ...

Achilles with redcurrant hair
and ash-streaked arms ...

a gull dips and bends,
scudding at my windowpanes
and sun pours its full force
into my face - eyes wince

as I philosophise
how glad I am
to be alive
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