Pick up my wings and fly into a Constable sky.
Look down on the world and try to make you out on the distant ground.
Lonely toy in a lost toy-town.
Suspended in spiral sounds--sounds of circular breathing.

I'm a kite on a silver thread, daring lightning to strike me dead.
Harsh echoes of things you said banished me to a thinner s___e
With unholy ghosts of your bedroom face.
Hands cupped to my ears to place the sound of circular breathing.

Matchbox cityscape below, I watch Lowry matchstick figures go.
Caught in the timeless flow of discreet silence.

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