Restrained

The telephone says no
To the dialled number zero
Which, for me
Cuts out all of the folk that I know
Not that I truly know all that many

No point though
In feeling sorry for myself
Although, to be honest
It is something I do do rather well
You see even now it is raining

It is quite likely
To rain all day long
Which may make it tricky
To take photographs
Or to walk beside the river

No point though
At this moment in time
In kicking up a fuss
Which, to be perfectly honest
I am not quite so so good at

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Withheld, Upheld

In the one place
Which is in the other place
I reveal all that I am able

In another place
Which is in this place
I hide all of which I am culpable

Like cat and mouse
Or more apt, as spider and fly
I test the culpable with the able

Not that on the cross
He had any knowledge of this
For no guidance is offered

To hide or to reveal
Two sides of the same coin
Before into the fountain it is thrown

The shadow, the light
Salt flakes in salt cellars
It is what it is

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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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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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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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