Honest Footstep - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...weather growls at footsteps and distant noise is ancient and honest..
Where...rain drills fluent bitter nightmare into supple iron smile..
Where...broken machinery sits proudly inside dusty windowed derelict shelter..
Where...silent voices speak empty values to woolen walls..
Where...cold slab chipped rock fountain is smiling and love struck..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
