Distracted, clear of deeper thought
No room for pure investigation
The ancients, the dust, the transference
The capture of the loss of loss
Of the loss of lost itself
In white space, in black space
In skyless skies and blank seas
Without horizons, and yes, landless
Deeper thought
To play with such a thing
A fine place for resurrection
Collect the pebbles and the leaves
There in our minds to create new landscapes
I never thought of it before
How different the sound of the waves
To that transportation which is the river
The endless forward roll
The onrush over boulders and stones
With man made creations for fish to by-pass
Life without time to wait for
A conversation except that
Your friend behind you echoes your every word
Where is your memory; is it in the silt
And the sand of your settled bed
Or is it with birds, fauna, and grazing sheep
Or is it in the visitors, trampling on your every shore
If the wild boar approach
Stand tall, spread yourself
Chant the ignoble incantation
Gas mark number six
The vastness of the valley
You show me your explorations
I am thankful, also peaceful
I admire your honest integrity
Then watch the skies move
Behind the trees
Take a photograph of you
Taking a photograph
Down beside the gushing river
The dizziness of the rivers
East Dart meets West Dart
To become the River Dart
Here, however far
Down the valley side we have fallen
We are still above the sea
Surrounded by books of places
And spaces, and Zen meditation
As the I sometimes forgets to be
For the ears; music, through
The transistor radio; any noise
Is welcomed, to overwhelm
The swirls which rush on to the sea
Another glass of gin
Another scone and jam
To commit an inner sin
To join the curse of damned
Or to float
On the slow passing cloud
The boards of wood are thin
The door-stop securely slammed
To commit an inner sin
To taste the words of man
Or to sail
Into the easterly wind
With the sun on your back
