poetry, art, magazine

Robert Miles
Remove (Or Younger)

dreams of childhood's childhood dreams,
let go of the shower to get to my seat
at the back which has my books and
Peter Patrick's back in front of where I work,
on whales + pencil writing, drawing
tightening on a style which dulls the blue
grey style of no self consciousness.
So the tree branch bends and offers a different seat,
the grass scuffed to dry hard dirt by eager feet
and crowds crowd under silhouettes of clustered leaves,
when lunch is finished I think I'll leave.
The playground offers a different group
and ice cream girl a glimmer glimpse
but since a sentence starts the loop
these dreams it seems are back...