Stroll along the White Cart. Round hoardings and boarding of the foreign commissariat. The map lists earthworks but I’m not too sure - it’s all real flat and endless. The alleyways of the commissariat. Awe. Nearly. Not too far. Ate some blackberries that fell from some ‘unknown source’. Little under ripe - but still. Stooped in calligraphy. Birds - Colitis - Lower Colon - The way water reflects light onto concrete and the barren bowed legs of a postman. Time and then some for Elliott. The tramp, me, asks for some spare change.
unripe blackberry
the last lion
a triangle
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