23rd March 1671

I have no foibles with the passing of time, no regrets save for that which causes me harm, I stand aloof from crows and decedents and yet with face pressed into windows I see only worlds turning which shall never be mine. Bring on the mad seas, let me taste the madness before I reach the sheltered port.


22nd March 1671

Today I met a blue frog collective singing ballads of their youth, by the 10th verse of 'Bad Toad Goes To Market' I moved  down the road, onward to shelter from quickening storms and crows who carry chimneys in their feet


21st March 1671

I walk into faded misted morning, the landscape cracked, sodden and ribboned by guilt. Far off in the distance I see a huge bird with a green lantern in its beak. I walk forward wishing only I had shoes.