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Wednesday, 4 December 2019

Internet Free Space

I am able to send letters by post
But cannot email
Or send text
In that sense I am incommunicado
Which, if I rightly recall
Is one of the reasons
Why I came here

Another was to walk by the river
Though today it is raining
Almost from first light
Also forecast for the rest of the day
Which, if I rightly recall
Is how the weather was
Thirty or so years ago

I have a chair to sit on
Also a chair at my desk
With a lamp to light
There is a telephone
I don’t know if it works (it doesn’t)
It will not make outgoing calls
Nor will it receive calls from beyond


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 See more of Christopher's Work Here
See more of Christopher's work Here

Tuesday, 3 December 2019

Absent, All But One

I am here
You are not
The clock only ticks
In the silence of darkness

It does this, this year
Next year, every year
As if it also knows
That xxxxxxx is the cruelest month

Why did you choose it
For your birthday
What’s that you say
It wasn’t up to you

Rather it was your parents
Who were to blame
It was one of their peak experience moments
Which brought you to me

Yet here you are not
Neither they
No, it is only I for whom
The clock ticks, in the darkness


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 See more of Christopher's Work Here
See more of Christopher's work Here

Monday, 2 December 2019

As Found, As Defined

Six monks in their place
Me, and one other
In the pews
World without end

This is the monks
First morning meditation
They are more settled
Than I

The Gyrovague
Who drifts from region to region
Staying as a guest
For three or four nights

I never settle; slave to my own will
To my gross appetites
Worse than a Sarabite
Pray, keep silent of my ways


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 See more of Christopher's Work Here
See more of Christopher's work Here

Sunday, 1 December 2019

Back Steps

I gave to you, that is
I gave I to you
Or so I thought
Completely

You took that I
Gave things
From you to I
To bring that I to life

I grew that I
With your gifts
The I prospered
Yet, soon

I began talking
About people
You, I, we submerged
Disappeared from view

I raised my head
You remained hidden
It is, so I now understand
It is what, we people do


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 See more of Christopher's Work Here
See more of Christopher's work Here

Saturday, 30 November 2019

Travel Time

It is as it is
The pain precludes sleep
The pain insists on waking
The pain pushes, or questions
All limits of mind and body
All extremes of love and loss

This is the first night
There will be others
Times, without sleep
Without mind, without love
Yet there will be meditation

In the middle of the night
Or at 03:39 to be precise
Not exactly on the dance floor
Though we could be flying out
To some villa in Tuscany for a wedding


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 See more of Christopher's Work Here
See more of Christopher's work Here