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

Roll Right’s Width 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 Brightness In tapestries of Humanity’s Age & heritage Flashing forth In the shouts & smells Of our market: Voices, tongues Fruits & pasties; Shop signs Abandoned packaging & Advertisements; Concrete paving slabs & pillars; Food vendors Prams & wheelchairs Bicycles & trolleys, When suddenly This ancient Constellation Winks at us & opens, revealing Every foot-fall Through-route Trans-action; The whole seductive fractal Leading us deeper Into the timeless rindless Rootedness; 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 Coventry’s Circular Market-mandala With roaring road-ring Where hedges were where The prehistoric Wetland Buzzed. Then Somewhere On Broadgate, After climbing the hill up From the central fountain, Foundation 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.