David Hickman



A broom is a broom
In its thinness
A seizure of space
And the vertical eye.


It is the air that
Makes the gull;
Feathers are the
Breasts of the wind.


If I am, I am without
A thought is a movement
With no motion.

This work first appeared in Gargoyle, issue #4. Please respect the fact that this material is copyrighted. It is made available here without charge for personal use only. It may not be stored, displayed, published, reproduced, or used for any other purpose without the express consent of the author or artist.