Steve Bucknell

Steve Bucknell

Posted on 10/23/2015

Photo taken on October  9, 2015



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To Lethra

To Lethra
Lifted, bent, twisted,
he still stands in the long day
on the dry, dried land,
writing in the sky.
We feel indistinct,
grey and white,white and grey,
almost indistinguishable.
Our trunks shrink,
our eyes recede,
our mouths turn thin.
We talk of gradual
this time or next time.
Inside, doors close softly,
collections collect,
gardens are gardened.
Things must be beautiful.
Of course we always say
we have no regrets,
but our mouths sink,
our eyes betray us.

Steve Bucknell. 09.10.15.

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