Graham Stone Biography

I see it, the dead dirty doll
There between the sleepers of tracks,
And the creepers of weeds
I see it with its weathered cracks,
...

Diluted pupils
Stare and burn holes in the sky
Ragged breath rips the air and silence
I crumble where I lay.
...

I fell in love with the feel of the soft damp grass,
And its caressing flecks moving Between my toes,
The moist damp soil felt cool against my bare skin
As the sun bent so low upon the horizon,
...

Smooth skin,
So pale it seems to gleam
As if in florescent light,
A glancing blow
...

(more an idea i'm slowly begining to appreciate)

I see, I think,
Unclearly, but sill I see,
...