Rough guide
by Jonathan Timbers
[ poetry - may 07 ]
No turbo electric masses
churning through the broken gates
of the ice palace,
just more shops, the odd bomb,
blur, shock, getaway, big letters
and detailed forms,
maybe more shadows
prostrate, more anger, more outrage
doing its jerky dance
on a rock by the shore
whilst young men
escape along
the Everest Trail,
walk-worn, more footnote
than foot-fall.
