Almost is a close call


As close as desire — no franchise, no outsource — when it opens up the highway to speech: come to town! For reality, even though that's as near as a shuttle service to High Holborn where the alphabet makes the sea retreat. Poetry, as sleek and slender as your outline against the sky, as tender as time, makes language all randomly wet and handsomely shiny. Return with all to come to be as long as the rainbow, to be a triple-dome future, stylised, idealised and over here. Why not outstrips all words still in the in-tray, and birds unaware of hut and hamper. Hands dip deep into the pockets of tenure and discourse until shades of "say no more" halt those extraterrestrial visits. Clear vistas establish the range, tune and pontoon mark the boundaries. Presence is the territory to enter. Perpetual tense makes sense in perpetuity.