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

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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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