(photographs from the past)
for James
The edge is important
and the focus. Where
to lead the eye
without blurring
the terror of passing trains,
the ground all wasteland and boots,
fear splintered like glass.
Years fold in
and the track runs on
beyond reason.
In the dark room
wounds are developed.
Chaos is exposed
and fixed. The pictures
are silent and speak of winter.
Shadows
too dark to resolve.
Negatives disintegrate
old and weary
with too much sight.
A shatter of dust.
Ashes.