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…

7 thoughts on “ In the empty park… ”

      1. Pretend? Moi?

        Seriously, though, it’s simply refreshing to read poetry from someone who is prepared to a) think, and b) take risks.

    1. 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.

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