46

Such a light falls on the stove

The ashes glow stronger than the embers

The flames disappear into the fiercer sun

Yet outside, the skies are pitch black

The ground is covered with snow

Seems it would be good

To roast an old chestnut

As flies of white ash pay homage

To yesterday evenings blizzard

The quiet meditation

And the harmonious chanting

Smooth a path for any further revelation

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45

It matters not that in that moment I was in that moment

All that matters now is that that moment is passed

And that that moment will never return

He talks of being rebuffed by the actress

Truth is he never really made his move

He did no more than smile at her on stage

And write a few words of introduction

It matters not that in the future there is no future, no future moment

All that matters is that that future which we talked about

Was bypassed in sort of a days-of-future-past moment

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44

I am on that easy street

Warm wool socks

On my fresh bathed feet

Feeling good, feeling neat

Softer rock

With a rich, irregular beat

I have this time

To sit half still

I have a dime

With desire to fill

I think on back, to that seat

No more clocks

Nor ledgers to complete

Looking out, as if on retreat

Swirling frocks

With feelings running deep

I have this line

As if by that rill

I have my mind

With hope instilled

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43

This is one warm feeling

I don't give a fig to what others say

To have the beautiful pleasure

A calm, energised, peaceful mind

As the snow falls

And the logs on the wood-burner

Glow

And the music, on the stereo

Is as liquor on curvaceous glass

Is as footprints in soft warm-wet sand

No remorse, neither escape from nostalgia

To go just wherever that last thought takes me

As if to candy floss at the fairground

As if to that kiss, along the Golden Mile

There is no need to go deeper

All of depth is already in our memory

Or in our projections for the future

Remember Findhorn Foundation

The beach through the forest

Yachts in the bay

Walks to the pub and store

Then the road out to Ullapool

With moorland, mountains

Ponds at the roadside

With deep reflections

Of sun and moon

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42

He threw the signed copy of his book into the desert

The last place where he knew of her whereabouts

I do want to, I don't want to

I will want to, I won't want to

We did want to

Didn't we want to

I may walk, I may not walk

Did we want to walk

Where the last of the waves

Scored the descended flatness of sand

He did want to, he didn't want to

He will want to, he won't want to

They did want to

Didn't they want to

He may walk, he may not walk

Did they want to walk

Where the last of the ridges

Scanned the intended emptiness of land

It is cold, it isn't cold

Snow came, snow didn't come

He wanted to

She wanted to

It was dark, it wasn't dark

Driving in the blizzard

Where the last of the drifts

Shaded the rendered Rio Grande

With the headlights, without the headlights

Into the blizzard, out of the blizzard

Follow the red lights, don't follow the red lights

We did want to

Didn't we want to

I may drive on, I may not drive on

Where the last of the snowstorms

Waved goodbye to the tendered demand

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