Dearest ______,

Bjork still singing in my head:

It’s early morning
No one is awake


I’m back at my cliff
Still throwing things off
I listen to the sounds they make
On their way down
I follow them with my eyes ’til they crash


I Imagine what my body would sound like
Slamming against those rocks


And when it lands
Will my eyes
Be closed or open?




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Photography and text by Author unless otherwise stated. All rights reserved.

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