∞
In the empty park
the disused swimming pool
is | for now | the home
of a lone heron
& a paddling of mallards.
They listen for the wind
rummaging in the grass
& reeds | sweeping momentary dimples
which pass like shadows
over the slippered | gaggle
of the adjacent ghyll
curving through the empty park.
i’m the only person
here | the park’s so empty i can
touch it—it’s Lunar
New Year. The moon
is a sphere of rock
we used to measure time | now
we celebrate its habit of renewal
even though it never leaves
our orbit—a fixation of the eye.
The moon’s at a loose end: it has no use.
It is better than a clock | of course.
i think of it…in
a different way altogether…
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I’m glad you’re writing stuff like this while I’m quiet.
Why is it crap, so you don’t have to pretend to be nice? haha.
Pretend? Moi?
Seriously, though, it’s simply refreshing to read poetry from someone who is prepared to a) think, and b) take risks.
i always appreciate your insights, & i always trust them. Thank you.
yvw
Got a kind of loveliness about it.
Cheers Paul. i was reading a bit of WCW & felt an impulse to write something a little less subjective & focus in on a direct environment. i was quite pleased with the outcome as it isn’t my usual mode.