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Rocking Horses and tin soldiers
A fantastic free-for-all.
In imagined spaces.
Worn décor: peeling and pale.
Tumbled corridors with endless doors.
Rooms without ceilings, bewildered by nature,
Senseless symmetry with sweet reason.
Floors a crunchy mix of insect carcass and woody grit.
Rooms without walls, leading to windowless halls.
Grasses as long as the rivers.
And branches as thick as the sky.
An edge leaps to layered palaces of lacy gold.
Architecture precariously perched
On balconette after balconette,
Floor after floor,
Each edge a single palace,
In a red-ripped rose-lined funnel of awe.
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I like this one,think you really got the atmos down. It reminds me of an old house we used to play in as kids,it had an old piano in it,a pair of hares hanging that never seemed to age from summer to summer,and pages of the bible stuck on the insides of any remaining cupboard doors! And of course it was haugnted!
ReplyDeleteThat's weird Ben - I don't understand this comment malarky - because here is your comment 'cept it says there ain't one!
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