first light through thin curtains
the dog asleep below
I am a part of all I see
part of this golden glow
the dog will stir and want his breakfast
and I have much to gain
if I now rise and walk the fields
before late summer rain
Tag: dawn
pretending not to hear
darkness before dawn
I listen
as is my practice
lifting the mug of coffee to my lips
with both hands
the dog is sleeping on the bed
you tell me (as have others)
that the truth is closer
than I am to myself
closer than the thick black liquid
quickening in my throat
only it’s not working today
it is not here
that which with a rush is only everywhere
in your voice
the quiet breathing of the dog
the sip of coffee
grace knows no horizon
the heart no other resting place
than this
yet I’m no wiser
like children at a rock pool
we have dipped our buckets
and I have drawn up nothing once again
curious water
a ribbon of seaweed
if I were on my deathbed
even now
yours is a voice
to lead me by circuitous paths
to nowhere
which is the only place
I ever thought to be
it might be birdsong
or the voice of my father
calling up the stair
as I rocked on my heels
pretending not to hear
so long ago
I spit the grounds
place the mug down gently to one side
close my tired eyes
and see more clearly
that I am never closer to God
than when I am about to fall
and know
there is no one here to catch me
but myself
waking at Lulworth 1
greedy for solitude I rise
as the screaming cockerel
insinuates break of day
to the weary diver long submerged
cleaving for purchase to the clanging stones
long has he raptured on the ocean bed
in sensual collapse from the fall of eve
retrieving irretrievable matter
between sea demons and sea dreams
watch as he rises towards the cliff
where as a boy he once looked down
at this same cottage in the crumbling cove
and did not know it
[first posted Jun 20, 2013]
no joyful music
if there are a thousand ways
to hold back time
one would be to journey
down some unknown railway line
and by the winking
of a cheap hotel sign
slip into the forests
of the night
let the night take you
where there is no need for time
or for anything at all
till comes a dripping dawn
devoid of chorus
no joyful music then
to mark the day –
not that it would be
wanted anyway
