15 January 2011



too essentially a homeless
soul adrift between places idealised
as truly discrete and the ostensibly
redeemable pretence of where you
suppose you are going

– seeking a sense of similarity
a milieu of belonging, failing embedded
tests guaranteed to grant immunity
believing familial contempt, being too
remote, staying out in the cold

lost in a moment where awareness
straddles millennia and mile-high words
emblazoned with arrows pointing appear,
a ninth-street revelation of obscure signs
digitised on dirt roads leading nowhere

and in the distance you can see
a face clearly with smile willing
and pure eyes beckoning
– no turning back from
© 29 October 2010, I. D. Carswell