In that other place
Where to be
Is to be in the mix
Selecting regular or large
Americano
To go with the English breakfast
Chair and table
Pulled to one side
To let the window-seat customers
Pass by
On the way
To enjoy the rest of their day
Why do we let things
Pray on our minds
Are we principled or annoyed
You would be better
With something small in a pot
All that is left
Is the time to settle
To find the heart
Of the cause
For longing
A voyage to the horizon
Of the hurt
Of the separation
Between the crumpled inner core
And the vaguest of far-distance
Simply begin the conversation
Fear not
For failures words
Neither those of suggestion
Feel empathy
As if the destruction itself
Was in truth a kindness
Think on
Of those veritable monks
And next years longed-for visit
Work through
The contributions you might make
To their deliberations
Rest in this beauty
Contemplate on the gifts
Which you each have been gifted
I am in the bright light of beauty
A fine distant reflection
Of sunlight on still water
Even if I could not actually remember
Or not so much as even be there
I could still imagine, couldn’t I
There would have been a purpose
Of that you can be sure of
Yet it too could be lost on you, forgive me
One part of my story
Is awash and away with the birds
In all sizes, with all shades through to grey
Another past is a cumulus cloud formation
Which presses, formidably
With suggestions of romantic storms
That the fear-of-flying inhabitants have departed
And the dog endlessly barks
Adds to the unease of subsequent thoughts
I choke, and I cough
At my own attachment
To a life being totally non-religious
I wonder to myself
Will the pigeon leave the rooftop
I feel a deep desire
To explore the thoughts I thought
Yet I know the embers dying in that fire
There is pain to be sold and bought
But, from nowhere comes a flash of light
What if I had to live my life
Through the thoughts I thought
With purest expectation for the fight or flight
Blue skies and raindrops
How does one experience the moment
To write of the thought before the thought stops
To capture the essence as the purpose lies broken
I didn’t remember
I do that fairly often
Just as for your birthday in September
And the flowers which so so slowly soften
The peace here is deafening
As the conscience begins to ring
Calm concentration is threatening
As hopes stand proud to sing
Stretch out the explanations
Of the thoughts we wish to see
Bathe in a free mind’s revelations
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From the bluff
To the two pounds twenty
Tins of diet coca-cola
In the shade now
(And it is cold)
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| Available from Amazon |