Hi. I've been working on a series of 'Campion' poems. Just a way of shifting things away from myself slightly for once; inventing a protagonist. This is the only one I half-like. X Campion wandering Across the bridges of the city tracing lines, the tracks Along walls butting the river Holding hands and poses and selves together, braving weather Gwynn and Campion as lovers pacing the town, painting their shadows on litter, landmarks, one another Interlocked but wandering, wondering what the other path would hold, how the other half may or may not unfold were they to pursue it. Leave it at a thought, a muse, and back to the ragged tracks, the bitter, iron lines. Quiet comfort and a life. But at least quiet comfort. At least a life.