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now i'm just following a line

a thought i thought was mine



when sharing something of truth there is no hope 

there is no despair 

there is only lack

a deep absence of wanting


yet such a sharing is hope plentiful


overflowing with absence of demand





that life does not cease to startle reassures

and so

left with a smile

in the knowledge that’s all there’s left to do



taste of mountain air, feel of mud underfoot, crisp sting of gale force

winds that send cheekbones red. yes, in nature there is life. a confrontation with chaotic forces, a point of contact where what is self and other is no longer the question


pain and joy exist in each other  

time dispenses accordingly


a human is an experiential tube




when away from friends

I forget their love within me

and mine within them


my core full of fondness



when you take one plus one and divide it by four

you’re left holding less than what you started with before

only two’s greater than one so in fact you have more

two pieces apart like dropped egg on the floor


if i take six less seven and rhyme it with nine

though odd in my palm i know this piece as mine

collecting together the shards and the slime

both bound by and agent in some tricksy design


the pieces apart no they’re not they’re together

contained in each other the wing and the feather

the sea in the drop and the drop in the sea,

each memory apart a part within me


when you take one plus one and divide it by four

you’re left holding a difference that existed before

just as earth turns to plant and plant into man

contained in all times a past not outran


a past not outran and so not forgotten

how easily dreams turn from fair to rotten

yet rot is what fertilises the soil of tomorrow

what seems to be barren is in fact fallow


loving one seed today and in the earth bury

darkness consumes it is not quite so merry

a shoot, pea green and sun bound already

to love is a choice and this choice must be steady


when you take one plus one and label them apart

that is not much good insofar as a loving start

for love is beyond a broken ideal

love breaks all and in so doing heals


love binds what was broken and breaks what was bound

it’s in love a life worth living is found

sometimes that means breaking and falling apart

to be gentle and kind in this state is the art


when you take one plus one and divide it by four

you’re holding no more nor any less than before

two’s greater than one but don’t be deluded

in one we are whole, though somewhat secluded



transfixed i sit 


transient temples of water boil up




and in a second 





what is pain but expression left unshared



one day this composition you call your own

will echo the relaxed surrender of clouds

the quiet violence of nature will strip delusion from bone

while time makes untrue

any resemblance of a you once known

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