the other

She sang of turbaned and bearded men: it was said
she was good with words, leaving space:
to crumble old tales. Anew, an expansion, unorganic

tearing away through windscreens: girls
squatting outside the cinemas: assuming shapes of folded paper
and seed-pod splitting: there were moments

cracks appear, applied reds: afterthoughts to
corset us in: we remember that before we lost
surface: there were moments when we were not

About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

6 responses to “the other

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