On the move overhead in the dark, a skein of geese trace elemental songlines. An arc of ancient language: shared, precise, yet never disclosed




Untranslatable articulations. Dreamtime tracks. Already distant, almost gone. A fading away towards some idea of silence.

At around, 23.04 – 23.05, Saturday 18th February 2017.

This entry was posted in Ephemera - Encounters, Happenstance, Observation, Poetry, Psychogeography and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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