a year of all

For every sound stays netted, always

turning handles, smearing names and

I can only tell what changes

by picking out the rise and fall

of nebulous shows of skyscapes held


tightly trapped in bell-jars, we

push lips against the glass to see

only what is ascertained

between the splits made out to us –

winter passes quickly so


flick the switches, change the name and

open your mouths again to call

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

3 responses to “a year of all

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