Monday, March 26, 2018

all up the road
me and my boys
overarched by great snows

sastrugi, I mean

I mean like watch out
a huge sculpture might fall on you as
you walk
All we will know is your silly little legs
kicking next Spring
when we come looking

Jesus we might eat you by mistake
thinking of which
all along this path have been witches
throwing care to the wind
and it seems unlikely now
that the wind
ever caught it

we shouldn't ever walk on this dark path again
oh God let's right now retrace our steps
and make this right

dumbass, we're stuck here forever
don't you see?

and look how big the sky
with its face full of crying

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Now there is snow again. A few days ago, when it was dark and snowy, the deer came down -- five of them -- and hid in that little trench which used to supply the mill. There is a tunnel there, and maybe they use the tunnel for refuge or something. I think about these deer quite a lot. They are small and fragile things with thin legs, but also very hardy. One of them crashed past the door in a state of fright last summer. I want to reassure them, but they are reluctant to speak my language. I think of them in the snow. Really, I would like them to come to the door and eat titbits from my hand. I wonder what the ideal deer food would be. Hello, little deer, I would say, whilst offering beans on toast. Would you like to come in for a coffee? Maybe I haven't got this quite right yet. They looked at us warily anyway, and their eyes shone like broken glass in police lights.
then what for those,
those damaged, for whom
love was never enough?

how to write pertreh

there were flowers. they were small but colourful and they reminded even the sheep of death. we stopped for moments to admire them. there was a stream also and it ran past.we looked at the stream. in its shimmer and stony gleam. it ran indifferently. far along the stream was a great hill where water gathered. this, this was the great and ancient story of that.

Thursday, March 08, 2018

Well who doesn't like getting new books through the door? Mmm, it always excites me a bit, and then I don't read them anyway as I generally think that somehow if I surround myself with the right books then some kind of cognitive word-osmosis must occur. I haven't known this to work yet, but if anyone would like to see my Amazon receipts you can see that I'm trying very hard at the osmosis theory.