Coursing

The arm shakes, involuntarily
The physiotherapist said that was a good sign
The nerves apparently beginning to feel again
And it is true
All down the length
From shoulder to fingertip
I can hear both pain and communication
As though there are new awakenings
In spontaneous conversation

Yet the words struggle
To pass around the elbow
Formed into a right angle
By the modernist chair
Also, as if to act
As a brake on the traffic
On any other day
I would stand up
And do my exercises

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Exhibit A

And so I have to learn
The language of conversation
I have to negotiate
When and how to speak
And how to listen
In a meaningful, mindful way

I complimented you on the breakfast
Though I think you asked me
I tell you of the Tate being on changeover
But you say yes, you have looked already
And anyway it is a long way to St Ives
I ask, then what does the day hold in store
You say that there are lots of things
That you still have to do

And so I learn
The language of conversation
I negotiate
When and how to speak
And how always to listen
In a meaningful, mindful way

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Look, Look Out, All Day Long

The vast view
For the long time

The shaking lens
Of joy and fear

The afternoon sleep
And the middle
Of the night writing

The lost for words
And the found
For words

You see
The left arm
Wavers in excitement

As the right brain
Conjures up
Another brush-stroke

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Chosen, Not By Chance

The waves slow down
Soften their landing
The afternoon rolls on
Is this the work of the moon

And if I slept
For I can’t say that I did
If I slept
Was that to dream of the moon

If I did sleep
I slept to the sound of the waves
And so indeed
I did sleep to the work of the moon

Yet this was no natural sleep
Not a sleep
Which by chance came upon me
As I sat in my chair

No, this was a purposeful affair
With bed, and duck down duvet
Plumped up Egyptian cotton pillows
And the sounds of Gregorian chanting

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To Transcend

I read of transcendence
I write of transcendence
All around me
I have the search for transcendence

Or did we call it transmission
Or was transference our chosen word
Either way
Gather the days of our transcendence

Yet only now, here in the here and the now
Am I able to discover the truth

I read of transcendence
I write of transcendence
All around me
I go along with the search for transcendence

Or as we now call it transmission
Or did we say transference was our word
And in that way
Those were to be days, of the transcendence

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