Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

I am on the balcony yet again, a mere shadow.  Boneless, just a mass of palpitating flesh, a world spread out before me. Amazing really, what you fail to see from this high up, fourteen floors from the ground, just a leap away from the heavens.  A steady hand on the cold rail.  A calculated burst of energy.  Down 
                                                                        Down
                                                                                Down
                                                                                        Down

To the heavens…strange

You would expect, in a way, for the longing to subside.  For dreams to take on an entirely new shape and form, but shapes remain, circles chasing their tails.  Round and round and round.  Spinning across time… yet stagnant.

I bought a black book, where I scribble notes in tongues.  Line after line after line.  In there somewhere, between words of schizophrenic gibberish is my story.  I tried to follow a specific trail, taking twists well defined by those who forgot to stain out their experiences… sure that I had, in the least, a vague idea of where I would land if I were to fall.  Hard concrete but never fatal

Up here, fourteen floors above heaven, the cold slap of Liverpool chill gets my blood rushing again.  Paints my face identical to those eyes that stare from blind windows.  I wonder how many floors from heaven they are?  How much energy it will take them to leap?