#147 - unscripted notes (beggar's belief)

28.5.20

147

unscripted notes

(beggar’s belief)

a spin and a glint, this one

as if the sun were cast in coin

paint on the city yet to dry

this is my golden age

imagine a dog chasing through

like a circus trick – ring of fire

for instance

an eagle bore me,

had this liver for some

imagine music

starts stops here’s hum

think breezeless

I threw a question round the cot to warm

so here’s my story

it’s colour goes

or should I say there’s tunnel edge to the yellow

and tell by the intensity

how deep the well, the fall

am I free, to come to go?

am I a lover of wisdom?

if you could be still

then would it not be

rug out from under?

try to keep an eye on me

cops have

this is ‘the meditation on a corpse’

attention always goes

often have I thought to fly

and cast a God’s eye over, no

each day’s orchestra’s invisible

as much to you to me

time’s distributed

by just the one angel

no one sees

seed under the soil

spore of time

some few of us can hear the turning

it’s like an ocean roar

this is about not remembering

close cousin of can’t see, won’t

how to be here?

how far can I tell?

trees yet to return

here’s what they cannot take by fire, by sword

with your specs, what would I know?

which way is your calendar?

all goes to goes to say to show

I re-arrange myself again, prepare

I’m the bird come to the window

hit and hit again

take from, not to, the air

where you won’t see me gone