Stream

Exhausted.
The sun.
Anniversaries of journeys into chaos.
Half-familiar people.
A drawing of a man holding a cigarette. I couldn't get the hand
right till I looked at mine in the mirror.
Dreams I can't remember.
Autumn (the walk from London Road in Worcester to the Chinese,
nights black and disordered by winds)
---from the November petrol station, Lark Hill Road, the temporary
fireworks shop -Black Cat Fireworks- had a sign bright and ghostly
as a moon---
(cloistered)
I have never watched the rain from a narrow slit of a window of
a mansion that is grey and centuries old, but I have watched the
wind move through the branches of a clustered and disturbing wood
from an 18th century farmhouse.
The alarm in the mornings.
St Nicholas Churchyard.
Watching the the trees of Queens Park from the call centre.
Someone moving furniture about.