Sunday, 17 February 2013

I have thorns in my hair, I just combed into them going up a steep bank
every step haloed
no thorn crowned
the last hawthron outer edging coming away
sometimes if you go with undetermined softness you get through hurdles

why is my heart so thumping
that could be poetry but its medical and slightly sick making
lay down to earth
recover the right pace

Saturday, 2 February 2013

feb 2 2013 first visit this year

back from Canada
a bright but bared day, everything is hunkered down and smooth - water flatened
after floods and snow, sodden ground
bricks have been moved from the old oast ruin to the entry of the pond, placed like castle building, or a drains mechanism, some are lain across the road, maybe to stop cars getting stuck
all looks wintered and shadowed and fine line drawn
only I share that its great to be back and homed