The Art of Walking Nowhere

Terrestrial locomotion
across concrete,
the inverted pendulum,
moving flesh and boot –
the touchdown
softened by slightly
worn inner soles.

Fascinated by gum stained slabs,
I sidestep snails and ants
and cut through the park,
before I cross a discarded plank
over the puddle to the exit –
some risks pay off,
if we can just keep moving.

With the sun on my body,
I shoegaze without sound  –
going nowhere in particular.

When I’m dead –
even this I will miss.

Gwil James Thomas is a poet, novelist and inept musician from Bristol, England. Over the years his poetry has been published by Tangerine Press, Vipers Tongue, Paper and Ink and River Dog Zine, amongst others. IG: @gwiljamesthomas