There is the red-lit desk and wooden chair,
so now for evening's stove smoke, mothwork,
sun-in-the-leaves of the yard's birch. The quiet
that is Edith Piaf on a record player
a neighbour always lets turn at this hour --
and since that is my suitcase by the door
I'll drag it, as though it were an errant child,
to the stairwell, then the town limit, then
the short road of an empty railway platform.
There is the bending river by the hill
that I always saw - but, now, let me say
I saw it once, the hundred times the once.
- from Niall Campbell's Moontide
(Grez, adj., Hot, better than reem. best thing created. fresh peng-a-leng.
woah. look at that guy. he is grez.
via urban dictionary)