A Walk Is...

... an intimate journey...

before you are even past the end of the driveway,
there's something crawling rustling around

over by the garden.

heading down the street,

past signs of linearity

trying to impose itself.

another street.

another message.

an order?

message from god?

zen dancing lesson?

a forest from a satellite?

moss on stone.

fractals. geometry. the math.

even a face of stone fades.

his mum must have been so sad.

was the sun shining like this 

when laid him in that grave?

that tree must have been very small.

we are all going to die.

i will die.

but not today, i think.

today, i'm walking down these tracks.

the stone these tracks are laid on

was a red river once.

decay is as interesting as growth.

they cannot be separated.

i remember those signs from when i was a kid.

i guess people either need ice or they don't.

i will die one day.

you will die one day.

it seems strange that we share something

so intimate, profound...

and yet we never speak of it.

i walk past a strange Youth Park.

i've never seen one before with no graffiti on it.

none.

it looks naked
to me.

like an abandoned Futurist installation.

like something Stalin might have approved.

things only ever almost seem to fit together.

i'm not sure if that's a bipolar thing or what.

-30-

.