Pete Spence
Heading...For a fall
falling over
brings soil
to your lips
though not
the passion
you desire
when falling
the last thing
i see before
i bite the dust
is your toes
and not your lips
the stones
are higher now
they’re falling
on your lips
and capable
of drawing blood
i’m always
falling over
but not
always because
i’m thinking
of your lips
like an
endangered species
maps of laughter
are falling
from your lips
onto the landscape
i’m not
exactly stationary
now everything
is falling
out of the sky
towards your lips
down time
is time
thats not falling!
of late i’ve noticed
a little down
above your lips
the year
is falling
into disarray
its mid winter
and your lips
are blue
no end in sight
to falling
a piece of sunlight
unravels through
the sky to touch
your lips
days go by
i’m beginning
to know falling
backwards i even
begin to say
lips backwards
it’s late afternoon
i’ve given up falling
though come
to think of it
i haven’t seen
your lips today
i wander around
bruised but happy
then i see
your lips
just as night
is falling
it’s midnight
i’m falling
through sleep
where stencilled
on a dream
are your lips?
i’ve finished
falling over
and there among
the smouldering eons
is a great
finish to your lips!
and so here is
the monument
to falling
and over there
is the monument
to lips
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This material is copyright © Pete Spence and Jacket magazine 2005
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