Campt

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I go camping

I live intent

I unspoken

I content

I no words

I no news

Sun rise

Sun down.

 

I go town

Listen rumble

Stumble rubble

World shouting

World inspin

World falling.

 

I go camping

I live in tent

I reinvent

I content.

 

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Forty

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In a park

quiet near the station

forty silver chairs

beckon you

read their lines

aloud while

strolling between maples

in shade

friendship

celebration

honour

one city’s gift to another:

forty poets

whisper

bonne fete et

many more…