Wednesday, 10 May 2017

Everywhere is Everywhere but Some Places Seem to be More Everywhere than Others

Roll Right’s
Around & within
The circle of
Their jagged teeth
Those crazy characters,
King’s Men
In slow orbit
Without first then
In within
Grass rustle
Marching daffodils &
Bird exclamations.
This green
Of lace
Looks so delicate
Yet has so much, so many
Of sunny strength
In the shining fields
That edge the ridge
Trajectory traced
By quiet wanderers,
Human planets, who in
Trying to number
The un-measurable
Stumble into years.
Due south,
Just downspin
Of the solar gatepost
Suddenly the sky
Ceased to be a space
Became a becalmed sea-ceiling
Projection, so that we sense
A sandstone escarpment,
A dolerite dorsal fin,
A spray of dune sand
Upon the wind,
A shout of joy,
The cry of a shore bird
& the not so distant
Jurassic Sea
Are all present,
Here together
Like some kind of reunion
Except that the whole thing is
Just a flower &
We are the tiny
Circling creatures of a spring day
Basking in its light wheel
Of starry moony sunny
Revolution of our own footsteps
Upon the well worn
Path of entries.
A biker stripped off his armour
& laid down,
Head against a stone
Stone counters were reciting,
Dowsers frowned with intent,
Music was playing
& all were rejoicing,
Sweetly nested
Among the many curlicues
Of gravitation
That the cosmos is.
The piper is not mad.
The dancers however
Having abandoned themselves
To his smile
Beat of feet upon the green
Lovingly attended
By the never distant dead
Slowly settled into
The liminal rhythm.

The density
Of the texture
The busy city is
In tapestries of
Age & heritage
Flashing forth
In the shouts & smells
Of our market:
Voices, tongues
Fruits & pasties;
Shop signs
Abandoned packaging &
Concrete paving slabs
& pillars;
Food vendors
Prams & wheelchairs
Bicycles & trolleys,
When suddenly
This ancient
Winks at us
& opens, revealing
Every foot-fall
The whole seductive fractal
Leading us deeper
Into the timeless rindless
City life.
The coral reef,
The colony,
Uruk’s burnished wall
Are here
This minute;
Varanasi’s burning ghats
Statues & slums
Side by side
Situation surfaces;
Babylon’s West-end,
The shops,
The spires;
Present through
With roaring road-ring
Where hedges were where
The prehistoric
On Broadgate,
After climbing the hill up
From the central fountain,
Just before you reach
The Age of Godiva
You feel it;
That sense that
Everywhere is everywhere but
Certain places of power
Are more everywhere
Than others
& that this
City circle
Just happens
To be
One of them.

You can read this as a single poem in two halves or as two poems if you wish, in which case you are reading the columns vertically. It is also possible to read the poem horizontally, thereby integrating the two sections. Maybe the nature of reality isn't what you think it is. If so, that could be quite important.