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Shiny
Roaming
Overnight, loam has been churned.
A fresh furrowed field before me.
footpath now forgotten, land lost
thanks to vast machines that chew
and crunch, split fresh green shock
into parallel mounds of uniform brown.
April 2023 Input
It feel like this year has flown by. April vanished in the blink of an eye. I enjoyed being fully recovered and starting to explore more of my new home. I also got out a bit more and did things, so reading time was reduced.
In these days of sushi terrorism
second hand bright ghosts collide,
lighting up our motorways in sparks
of emerald and indigo. Disruption
in the supply chain is our mantra,
repeated often to become meaningless.
Fish is mostly off the menu now
hidden currents flourish incandescent.
I barely think about my death machine
despite piloting it twice daily.
Watched by an arrogant pigeon,
I flex my fingers, ready to push
the correct button at the correct time.
I have trained for this all my life.
Recovery
Somewhere, possibly close, the kettle boils.
I am waiting for my insides to knit together
around an absence, watching petals a shade
off clouds emerge on phalanx thin branches.
Flower Moon
It's Easter and all the daffodils are screaming
at the awakening ground- "Lazy arsehole!"
"Good for nothing useless compost!"
Rhubarb cracks fresh bones as it stretches
towards a terracotta sky, body on new body.
The stillness you found among roadkill
and in the cold and muddy verges
has been shattered by sudden ferns.
We have read the skies like scripture.
Now is the time to live- breathless, unforgiving.
I hold my unnoticed, selfish serenity close,
feel it crack open, send out exploratory shoots,
mutate into this fragile yellow dream.
2023 March Input
For the first couple of weeks in March I was recovering from gallbladder surgery, so had a lot of time to read and reflect and watch things as I let my body knit itself together. (I'm back to full health now.) As a result, it's been quite a rich month, with lots to recommend. Here's what I read and consumed in March:
Fever
I woke up in a thousand different realities
simultaneously, head stuffed with cloves/
industrial by-products and waste/
a single sustained tinnitus buzz.
Liminal Spaces
Almost
and yes, I still gathered branches,
and yes, I still wore my woollen coat,
but it was unbuttoned, no scarf