Devoid
I need a rest from thinking
From standing to sinking
Leaping over a wave
Only to drown in the sand
Trying to take a hold of the wind’s strand
But missing by inches
A blinking sun
Hidden from view
In the twilight blue
A precious stone in the sky
An eye watching my every move
Always feels like I’m in the middle
of some silent attack
Page(s) 146
magazine list
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- Cannon's Mouth, The
- Chroma
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- Interpreter's House, The
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- Lamport Court
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- Magma
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- Matter
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- North, The
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- Obsessed with pipework
- Orbis
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- Painted, spoken
- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
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- Poetry London (1951)
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- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Private Tutor
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- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
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- Shearsman
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- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
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- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
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- Yellow Crane, The