I Am Lightweight

Last night I watched

Jiska Rickels’ film 4 Elements

I am now able to tell you

That I personally have no desire

To be a forest firefighter

Or a deep sea fisherman

Neither a miner in Germany

Or anywhere else for that matter

Finally, I would not wish

To undertake the training necessary

To become a space astronaut

I am happy to write

From the comfort of my armchair

Or to make a sketch, in a coffee shop

Yes I am ok to say

How I wish that Mrs Thatcher

Had not closed down the mines

And the shipyards

But I would not wish my sons

Nor I, to be in those professions

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On Being Told Not To Interfere

I come back to this room

I come back to this room

Where a few minutes ago

I was listening to David Whyte

Listening to David Whyte read his poetry

As well as him telling a fine tale

About himself, and John O’Donohue

Talking of to go against yourself 

Go against yourself - a neat Irish phrase

And, or so it seems to me

One not entirely at odds with

Being told not to interfere

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Thoughts That Do Not Waiver

Still to love

The one you love

Even though that love

May be unrequited

For they too

Cannot truly see that thought

When they think

That they no longer love you

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Waking, As If Rapidly Dreaming

A cheap choc-ice

A Christmas card

For the benefit

Of retired jockeys

A piping hot

Cup of tea

And the wood-burner

So so fully alight

Such a rush

Out of the evening nap

Such a world

To break into, or out of

Taken to ones doze

With words about William Wordsworth

With words about Thomas A Clarke

With words about Frank O’Hara

Such a literary stroll

Towards the light sleep

Such a poetic saunter

To those moments of grace

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The Philosophy Of Freedom

I cannot watch my thought

Rudolf Steiner says so

Yet I can watch the dust mote fall

Through the air as I write this

Yes I am able, to watch, and to write

At almost one and the same time

Yet, to view that thought just then about you

No, no that is no longer possible

I could go back further in time

Maybe find a photograph for reference

Yet however strong the concentration

That thought, in real time, would not be visible

Yes I could imagine walking, on firm rippled sands

Even to be running, towards the Machair, in the rain

Yet, as I think I thought these thoughts

I cannot see my own thought processes

I will myself, to make certain things happen

And already you may know where this is going

Yet it seems that I cannot help myself

No matter that I cannot see through to the thought

Yes, nostalgia may interrupt, or interject

Messages might arise from deeply buried memories

Yet no amount of persistence, or even shadow boxing

Will let the ether of me, see the fading thought of you

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