I stood in the market
On a Scandinavian archipelago
Wondering
If to buy a present
Was the the right thing to do
A good way to protect
And project that moment
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
I stood in the market
On a Scandinavian archipelago
Wondering
If to buy a present
Was the the right thing to do
A good way to protect
And project that moment
Fade away (almost)
Immersive
In concept
Also in delivery
Persuasive
Close-up
Also far away
Declare this
In sunlight
And beneath the stars
Change and education
Or education and change
Rushing headlong
Into a future
On tracks or with steps
Entirely shaped by happenstance
Fade away, almost
The words don’t settle
So easily, even
Individual letters
Are difficult
To comprehend
The line of trees
How might I believe
Beyond the night’s darkness
The pathway through the woods
All uphill until
The bright clearing appears
I do not know of Le Bon or of Hippolyte Taine before him, although I did once stay in the Place de la République
The closest that I get to mob culture is in the football crowd, where I occasionally do move from individual thought
Of course I despise those politicians, especially the conservatives, who chose to name group behaviour as mindless and without reason
Instead, even though my own experience questions it, I prefer to believe that I behave as a thoughtful individual, whether alone or gathered in a crowd