Sonnet for Tunnel 29

Days may collect black teardrops in a can,

rendering the night to twitch, turn and crawl.

Rivulets can quell the dreams of a man, 

from taking chances, to plunder his all.


I’m told streams wind themselves to a river,

that David Bowie came here to get clean.

To converge is the current of the giver,

to stagnate, the language of the mean. 


‘No Mans Land’ is a field where tourists thieve.

They snap photos and buy cheap souvenirs.

They'll never know that you dug underneath, 

through a stinking ditch to drown all the years.


I want to see you standing by the wall. 

I won't allow memorials to fall. 

◄ Considering Lucy

The Twitch of the Curtain ►


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