Liminal Landscapes / by Justin Harrison


Bodies without flesh or bone 

Partially present

Dead Quiet in their slow overwhelming absence

Insubstantial

Far off the light might be fading

Or resisting

The map has bled into the earth

The colours and key, now clay

Navigation a vapour

A whisp

That briefly curls in the air

We stand on the shore 

thresholds

We are Unable to cross

Boundaries

We are unable to comprehend

The mist

A veil 

The land

Sleeps

I

Wander