Conversation

Hello Christopher

O, hello (I wish I could remember your name)

It’s been a while hasn’t it, are you still writing

O, yes (so I must have met you at a writing do)

I so enjoyed the piece you wrote about being over there while still being over here

O, wow (some time back then, when I was intrigued by Godot)

It is difficult don’t you think, to not just follow the rules, to try to find your own style and stick with it

O, I suppose (I never did learn the rules, and as for style I never found one anywhere)

I’ve got a new collection coming out, it’s about make-up, and why it’s now women not men who wear it

O, good (I never saw originality has her strong suit, but I won’t say so right now)

The idea came to me in Venice, when I was buying a mask for the grand ball

O, indeed (another impoverished poet, I’m not sure I want to remember your name)

Yes, it will be out in spring, you will come to the launch party won’t you

O, well (who is the publisher, will I get the chance to name drop)

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Half A Mind

I open up to the physiotherapist
Say that I do want to do as he asks
But look, I just cannot move my arm

He moves it for me, without undue pain
A lot of trouble is in the head you see
Yes I say, for these past twelve months

I have been protecting my left shoulder
Bending, and shaping
In all sorts of unnatural ways

To prevent work for that muscular area
In the meantime the physiotherapist says
You have forgotten how to relax Christopher

Always you are tense
Always you are overcompensating
And yet all the while

I have been meditating
I have been learning to still the mind
Learning to be mindfully aware

But I have neglected to be aware of my body
And why should it now play ball
Right now, just because I want it to

No, no, first for sure
My body will say, Christopher
You must go through the pain barrier

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Up And About

A sort of mental callisthenics
Sterling University remembered
To have met all of those people
Yet not now know a single one

Strong winter light falls
Onto building surfaces, and furniture
Strong winter thoughts move in
Around the early morning dumb-struck cells

Assembling into a sort of set, as you might find
In a theorem, or hypothesis
Lights which may eventually merge
Yet often seem to go their own way

A cold wind, with cold energy
Rustles the bushes and the trees
The evergreens, and the annuals
Take time to sidestep, to survive

A sort of defence mechanism
As carried by most everyone
That life should go on, and on
For how else to avoid grief

Disparate thoughts, one by one
Here only for the learning of
Other universities, with games
With which to start the day so well

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Conscious of Consciousness

I am in that shallow place
Thinking about I
I am in that hollow space
Thinking about why

About why Colin Tinker and me
Played football on our own
About why he was so good you see
And my parents were not at home

I am on that dodgy race
To feeling sorry for myself
Recalling how the hunt we chased
Killing, with our abundant wealth

With a viewpoint from that sycamore tree
Swaying calmly in the wind
Movements of ease to set one free
With no thoughts of love to rescind

I am seeking out that grace
Which morning light does bring
Thinking, that to turn about face
Will in no way cause the bells to ring

Neither, neither, neither the tea
Which I happily, and slowly, sip
Thinking not of what I wish to be
But how indeed I may learn to skip

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Take A Seat Sir, I Will Bring It Over

The woman waits
Outside the window
She checks her watch
With some purpose
She does this again
A couple times more

Her friend arrives
She runs towards him
They are all smiles
They hug, and then
Turn to enter into
Into the coffee shop

A middle-aged couple
In matching black
Arms already linked
Come along the pavement
A few moments later
He opens the door

The lady opposite
Reads her book quietly
The family, to the side
Talk of all manner of things
But mostly they fall back
To motor cars and F1 racing

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