Friday, 29 January 2016


За Док/For Doc

Life comes and goes. In the depths of it,
there's death stripped back as far as winter
and what we might receive. It’s how
you look at it in the angle of the sun
and memories trying hard to occupy
an absence. Our intention was
to walk that wintry spine of hills:
unlikely explorers, advocates
of the open air. Only caught now
in this pub, we’re sinking pints
and raising whatever we’ve got left,
an almost perfect architecture of myths.

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