Friday, 30 April 2021

Little Open Avenues


Day 30



In the past, this place was all closed off, tight like The Shambles.

A troubled authority had muddled itself, mixed up permissions and permits,

Kept a sorry status quo, deterring facades from scuttling themselves,

And for a time, things endured. But visitors got lost.

The one-way arteries all ended in walls. Or worse, left people emptied

Out in culverts, evacuated, feeling misled over the whys and whereabouts.

There were bulwark trip hazards. Bars on the pavements.

The sky had fixed visitation rights and the air was rationed,

Only doled out in the darkest alleyways.


These days I'm remodelling. Nothing lasts forever,

And - don't you know? - most of it should not.

These looming overhangs are fucking dust,

If you just kick the tyres. Founded on false truths,

Secret signs that point to Nowhere.

I want to invite the sky in.

I'm planting saplings in little open avenues,

Finding what's solid, dismantling the rest,

Safe street lighting, something like a guided map,

So when people come, they'll know the earth here,

Know the sun on their face. Know clean air to breathe,

And rest assured there will always be a hand to hold.




 

Thursday, 29 April 2021

In/Out


Day 29






I can't look through windows;

I'd either be out in the cold,

Or craving sweet escape,

So I just keep my eyes tight shut. 





 

Wednesday, 28 April 2021

In The Last Two Weeks

 

Day 28



In the last two weeks, have you:


1.    Stared at the bath mat for more than six minutes straight (and been aware the whole time you were doing it)?


2.    Felt genuine gratitude and affection toward a garden bird for choosing your bird table, and for turning up just when you most needed a buddy?


3.    Asked how somebody was and secretly wished they would crumple inconsolably (so that you could, just once, not feel like you're the last lonely runner in a marathon, clawing your way toward a long-deserted finish line)?


4.    Felt yourself contracting into foetal position (as if the whole mass of the universe were expanding exponentially and somehow squeezing you out like toothpaste)?


5.    Imagined yourself in possession of a super power (and been pretty certain it'd be the kind that threatens to obliterate the entire galaxy in an apocalyptic judgement of fury and hellfire)?


6.    Dropped food on the floor and felt like it was the last straw and you're a good person so why can't you just catch a break?







Tuesday, 27 April 2021

Hic


Day 27






While billowing hooves pestle the glad ground,

And men raise relics to the venerable vault,

There is a border where strange beasts revel,

Here,  grey besieges candy colour,

And branches bend the frightened frame,

To an intimate terra incognita,

Where only the worthy dare look.




 


Monday, 26 April 2021

An Office Romance


Day 26






Stop the bawling,

And the name-calling,

Your fury is snowballing, why,

It's positively appalling!


If you'd calm down just a moment,

You'd see I'm not your opponent,

Allow me, please, to make my atonement,

Point of fact, I'm your biggest proponent.


The grounds for my pencil murder spree,

Is to give you a reason to talk to me,

And I go through them like candy,

To make you angry because,

You're so beautiful when you're cranky.



In response to Paul



Arrival

 

Day 25





The present moment glides alongside me,

                                                            and together,

                    we take a delicious, conscious breath.


Each ocean breath is an arrival,

                    In each arrival, opportunity,

                                                            to begin.


I follow the blame of my soft gaze,

                                                            down,

                    to a quiet, inward awareness.


Awareness, unbid, in abundance.

                    The shadow of my breath is lengthening,

Softening an unusual grief.


I feel the warmth of hands on my blue body,

                                                            They are my own,

                    Curiosity unfurls; a heart of blossom bread.


I am observing my own arrival,

                    Painting a wall with my palms,

Here I allow dismay to slip the shoulder.


Now I trace a line through the whole of my bones,

                    Certain fingertips kiss the earth,

Honouring this arrival, this single purpose.


                    I notice feeling, melting, releasing,

Flexing and melting. Guiding and melting.

                    I inhale easiness, nice and slow.

My foundation is settled by a bracing shake.

                    There is a quiet power in the circle of my breath.



 


Saturday, 24 April 2021

Reflections on the Women I have Loved


Day 24





She was cold-blooded.

She was a bone puzzle, put together wrong.

She posed the thorniest problem for would-be predators.

She was warm-blooded, with an arsenal of razor teeth.

She was better designed to move swiftly and easily.

She won mastery in the theatre of your air and water.

She was a low-slung, tank-like bruiser that could not be overturned.

She was a knot of nerves and could not bear weight.

Her mistrust was deep and beaked, with a flat crest thrust back above the neck.

She waved her spiked tail like a living mace.

She cast you adrift on a separate continent.

She was a devil, full of mischief, lodging fossils in the rocks,

Just to bewilder mankind.




 

Little Open Avenues

Day 30 In the past, this place was all closed off, tight like The Shambles. A troubled authority had muddled itself, mixed up permissions an...