John Vickers



Travelling on a local train,
Not knowing a colleague’s name,
Inside the guard room on metal benches.
I dream of fatherhood,
One whose body never changes
The beneath of the tracks.
The momento mori where I survive
In devious flakes. The Black Forest
Backdrop and gateau and beer
Reading Stephen King, someone aims
To be a cosmonaut. Oberwolfach,
The single fly keeping one awake
Through the night, where one no longer senses
The lights on the garage across the hill,
On the single road, that sells cigarettes and alcohol.
A blemish on the lungs
The rhizomatic alveoli, difference and repetition.
I can only rotate my midnight walks in the dark ether.
To drink alone the different mathematical areas.
And again, accelerating towards
The dry, brittle cold of Berlin
Where the freezing lakes
Envelop the city’s historical regrets,
The odour of the Unterbahn
Where one waits patiently for a signal.




Dr John Vickers has published over 50 poems in UK Journals including Smiths Knoll, Under The Radar, Orbis, The Lighthouse, The Journal, Brittle Star. He mini-blogs at Mathematician , Poet, Philosopher, Psychoanalyst.

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