Focus; Elsewhere

Eight minutes is easy
Any more than that is quite an effort
Which requires mind games
To distract or delay
The onset of lack of concentration

If one could visualise
Then one would visualise
If one could meditate
Then one would meditate

But if all that one can be is restless
Then restless is what one has to be
Yet here
In a three-session concentration
One could so so easily fall asleep

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Place

The waiter knows how I progress
First a Coca-Cola Zero
Then, after penning a poem or two
It is time for an Americano, black

In this way
I have become a regular
Especially after
The diving lessons are concluded

The idyll
For idyllic it surely is
Arrived as my perfect destination
For which I am thankful

As soon as the crumb of cake
Lands on the sand
The sparrow swoops
To take it to a more private perch

Around the corner of the headland
A small cabin with a Swedish Flag
Or perhaps it is Greek or Argentinian
In any event it is blue with white

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Here

Where might those
Other worlds be
Where else might the sun
Bleach my auburn hair

How then not to simply be here
How not to be
So so continuously grateful
For the exclusive meditations

If only twenty-one was an option
Or thirty, or forty
Yet, how impatient
In those early years

Before turning turtle
And going back to college
To be taught The Poetics of Space
To study the poetry of human nature

Now to invest in the bodies
Of the beautiful people
To wonder, or wander
With a mind
Freed of all complications

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Locked In

I had to walk
In the water
I had to sit
On the rocks
I had to remember
Atrium Prestige this way
I had no need of escape
For I was here already
I had the space
The ambiance
The good feeling

Listen
You can hear the waves
Look
You can see the sky
Define the horizon
Feel, can you feel
As the breeze
Wisps your hair
As the shower
Washes your feet

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Trip

Lips kiss the walls
Stalls sell overpriced gowns
Down and down we go, into the town

Up and up some more
To the Acropolis
To the drop off bus terminus

Blacker than black
The thicker than treacle
Americano

Oh how blue your sea
Oh how clear your water
Oh how hot your sun

Seventeen stairs to step
Three floors in the lift
To sand and seawater

Splash of wave
Breath of breeze
Horizon far distant

As if to be
Is to be
Outside of my concentration

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Christopher's Collected Works Website