Cascade of dying ferns
Waterfall of decay.
Liminal space.
Yards and lorry parks
The signs viewed back to front
All pole and bracket.
Truncated walls and tangled coppice of
trees.
The past is guesswork.
So many turbines
Seem to power the rainbow
Which forms above the town
Watery mirage
A headfuck of light.
Taking the edge from the squat square blocks squeezed tightly and meanly in the middle of a lonely land.
The river is full
The future is guesswork.
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