Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter



He looks in the mirror sometimes too seldom.
Lost too much weight. Not strong enough.
Flexes. Smiles. The universe says you are a
Collection of chance atoms blown by the
Solar gale. He thinks the universe is remarkable.
The other, shaped by the same wind, that ocular
Amorphism, whispers back to him, around him,
In him. No, the remarkable is you.

R 23/11/2023 22:03

On the train between Stowmarket and Diss.

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