Persistence of Vision
Was he waiting, was he bleeding,
out in the sunshine
or electric blue evening
when white wrought-iron garden chairs
loomed out of suddenness
becoming, in a moment, themselves,
and birds fell silent
one by one
in the cool open gloom.
...and so we touch
with truth lying between us
and what was not said
ricocheted off the walls
with the speed of plastic bullets.
(1980)
Evolution and afterwards
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John Stean