I am building something in a field
nearby a horse
on its side
its eyelids nostrils flare
It doesn't speak English I say
you talk to it anyway

We stretch our concept of the future
past the point of breaking
and cast handfuls of pebbles
into the river of stars

to be overwhelmed by beauty on a daily basis
requires inward sincerity
to notice
the sunlight
spilt like milk
the shimmering
when you run you hands over the distant hills

write everything out of existence
the long trails of graphite
the way they move in the wind
and scribble out the sky

i give you a map of the back of my hand
and we're running through the maize
refugees from the 21st century
breath wraps around fingers
tangles among sheets and limbs
time is a veil
meaning is implicit
to whatever we bring attention
yields meaning

it is sleeping
it is not sleeping
it is awake

This work by Hamish Low is licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0 For any other usage of this work, please get in contact.