Analysis :: Sat On The Front Bench

The exceptional thing is not the memory
For many places have sufficient ambience

Or artefacts, to remind us of previous occasions
Of significant, if not always peak, experiences

What is exceptional is the forgetfulness
That the strength of that far distant memory

And the fierce, forceful feelings which it invoked
Should destroy all contemporaneous thought

Not only that, but also
That the effect should have such lasting powers

For how long you ask, until the laughter subsides
Until one stops taking oneself so so insidiously serious

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Private :: Gardens, Woodlands And Walks

There is a wide footpath
(Sometimes it becomes a stream)
Beside the River Dart

There are gullies
Cut every so often into and down the bank
To relieve the flood-waters

Beyond the waterfall
The path becomes
A single, foot-fall way

There is a log
By a calm stretch, a lull where
I think to sit down

Then I see the flies, and the midges
Hovering, skating on the surface
I am in no mood for being bitten

I go back from whence I came

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Head :: Screws Off

PS
Just to let you know
How mightily you affected me

I left the camera for a second time
So now that makes it
Three times that I have climbed this track

And I have never, ever
Not ever done that, or its like before
For any other woman

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Gardeners :: Poets

The tremulous scent
Of new-mown grass
As I head to the river
As I head to the woods
Past the gift shop
Past the flower filled
Horse troughs

A track
Through the trees
To a clearing up top
I hang my camera
On the five-bar gate
What I wouldn't give
To share a cigarette

I didn't stay long
Thoughts of you
Overwhelmed me
Absent minded
I forgot the camera
Breathless, and mindless
I had to return

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Out There :: Further Out :: Here

Vastness of love
Immense light of love
Touching love
Touching the very extremes of love

Core of love
Folklore of love
Days I swore of love
Swore of the ways of love, of the truth of love

Care and despair of love
Flare up and repair of love
Feeling for love
Feeling for your share of love, for your lair of love

Benches of love
Broken fences of love
Days entrenched with love
To set out the embryonic words of love

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