A whirl of words reels
inside my head
and I cannot touch them
unless I close my eyes.
Naked landscapes
are cranial photographs of words
that will be a world in my stead.
Roads, rivers and railways –
arteries pulsing my linear childhood –
blood certainties originating
from thought
never terminating but seeking
multitude destinations.
Courses appear independent
but each draws to the inevitable.
The centre of things