Tuesday, 31 December 2019
#1 - solipsistry - going solo - triumphal march of one
1st of January, 2020
1
(in the old calendar #1461)
going solo
or
me, my own Leviathan
‘Solitary, Poor, Nasty, Brutish and
Short’
(now there’s a firm of solicitors
or a publisher, perhaps?)
I
was an island once
when
rain was
you
could canoe around me
the
garden is dying
I’m
six parts water
maybe
more
doesn’t
seem to help
I
was am elephant in the room
and
here, once again
asleep
at the wheel
or
driving from the dream’s rear quarters
mainly
resolve it will rain
upcycle
roll
around like
till
I am a ball
aye
aye, captain
then
to a frig in the rigging
and
burial at no one’s see
lonely
as this business
of
passing unnoticed
from
year to year
in
the day
where
I always was
it’s
with an itch unslept
up
with first birds
still
with last year’s smoke
back
in it
how
else for a firstness
but
here again?
I
must be more vanishing
how
else?
duty
is a sense
begun
on something infinite
how
many pages may I be?
already
lost at the head of the trail
from these vapours
solipsistry
– the buryhead art
every
dab hand is at
rhythm
of making
is
out of days
in
hours
in
moments
here’s
Janus
hardly
out the door
and
carrying coal back in
let
like a breeze
one
ear and out another
things
dreamt and lost still haunt us
they
are family we were
go
at day as with a camera
am I my own music?
can I take you there?
it
only sounds like a song
must
not hold things too close to the heart
fire
catches there
tell
tunefully
resolve
on
which gone breeze?
triumphal
march of one
just
think of that face
in
the wind would change
you
only need to look
let
it be healing
by
heaven I’ll tell it
ladders
always for up
please
steady me
while
I climb
...
second draft
(from the pickouts)
solipsistry – the buryhead
art
every dab hand is at
or
triumphal march of one
here, once again
asleep at the wheel
or driving from the dream’s rear quarters
mainly resolve it will rain
must not hold things too close to the heart
fire catches there
how else for a firstness
but back again?
I must be more vanishing
tell tunefully
resolve
on which gone breeze?
just think of that face
in the wind would change
lonely as this business
of passing unnoticed
from year to year
let it be healing
by heaven I’ll tell it
ladders always for up
please steady me
while I climb
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