Poem: The Shadow

The shadow roams across the skin like that of a sundial,
marking time. It has no counterpart in reality, yet is real.
Peter Pan lost his shadow. Perhaps this geography is his.

The terrain once smooth, perfect in the light of memory,
is sad, worn and populated by fear, isolation, loneliness.
France is found on the elbow. Zimbabwe on the knuckle.

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

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I made chutney today for the first time ever, using - more... - US Republican vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin claims she struggles to - more... - As I read this story and felt my heart break, - more... - I've been given the contact details for a neurologist specialising - more... - Time Machine, the backup utility that comes bundled with Mac - more... - Send away your iMac with just short of $1000, and - more... -