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V i n c e n t   O ' C o n n o r


Nothing exists


Nothing exists

between the playground, graveyard,

and ghost estate,

but a barren green, ley-lined

brown by boys who kick

a broken, brown bottle

along the dusty ground.







blue sky,

or red or green

or this coffee shop,

or that old man


in that chair by that window, or the sound

of the page,

just turned.




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