Liopleurodon ferox

 rankopedia.com: “the most awesome animal of all time”


At the edge of the wood we hear the call
Of the dreaming land, the world-well
Felt weight of untold turnings
Of the season-wheel which bedecks all in green
But shall death-pluck it all in time to tell
Of unknown stories, measured in a meter of years.


& here we fare, swim bird-song summer air
Make our way between trees that seem
As if they were always so, but something calls;
Quiet, lying hidden beneath our paths
& sun & moonlit glades of pollen-rain
Where we make track & home & sleep again.


So we sink now into dark coils of land-memory
That carry us all; the waves of history
Rolling over secret depths unseen,
We sink now, dreaming of green strength;
The secret power of land-life, lost heat
Far beneath the surface of the Earth.


So we sink now & as we sink we’re turning
We’re turning North toward Holy Lindisfarne,
We’re turning East toward the great North Sea,
We’re turning South toward the rolling chalk downs,
We’re turning West toward Welsh volcanoes,
& down we trace the path of return:


So we sink now & as we sink we’re turning
We’re turning North toward mill-moor peaks of dark & light,
We’re turning East toward fens of secrets,
We’re turning South toward Rollright circle,
We’re turning West toward steep Malvern side,
Into the cavern of Earth’s millions of years.


We sink now, where root life seeks the treasure of earth-force
Where rain finds its way, water finds its level
Where mineral veins shine with atomic light
& the stone leans in its arch, slabbed & broken,
Hidden from the eyes of those who dwell above,
Mud-bed of ancient sea; wind, cloud & wave.


We swim in that sunlit sea; bird-like forms flit over
& She appears from gloom & She sings to us & She says:
“Come, come, come & swim with me!
Swim with me in the day-bright ocean of song!”
She has a voice like no voice you have heard,
& we dive & we sing & we follow Her beyond shallows.


Shoals of big-eyed strangers in their hundreds
Spiral about us, cloud about us, storm about us;
Flash in the light of the day of long ago
While all the colours of reef-life beneath
Spin & turn, waving strings & curled shells,
Long stalked eyes; bodies of gleaming coil.


We rise to the surface, breath ancient atmosphere,
Prehistoric wind whips waves at us
& far above our heads beyond the sky, in the future,
There is a wooded hill of juice, joy & wonder
Which calls to us & we’re drawn back up, forward
To the age of owls & insects, blue tits & badgers.


We walk together to sit at the forest’s edge; look out
Over the rich & peaceful land that is our home
Fields & hedges, woods & hills,
Rivers & pools, bogs & craggy steeps,
Towns & cities filled with dreaming people:
Beneath its surface, our land is filled with forgotten song.

In the Round House at Cranborne Ancient Technology Centre, Summer 2012

Memories through Windows

Then it becomes mere memory

Even the glance back over your shoulder

As you leave

Seems more real,

& the net

Of umpteen million pixels on the screen

Cannot be fine enough to capture

That moment.

When did it become memory?

Mind woven

By the brain & body loom?

When did the chemical strings

Their fields of force

Diagrammed in image & emotion

Blend their essences

Upon your senses for this?

Moment upon moment

Tipping, tipping, falling, walking

Like shale sheets

Up the cliff face;

Like waves, now gone, now come back;

You lack nothing

But your backward glances

Are remembrance.

It was a bittersweet pain

To look back

Over your shoulder

Through the rainy car window

At the receding stones,

The tree,

The wall around the pond,

The village houses & the lane

Knowing that you might never return.

Every time, usually a Sunday

You did it

Breathed it;

“Goodbye,”

“I love you.”

Then on the day that it was true,

The last day of all,

You looked back as ever, but life was kind;

You did not know that it was true.

Today you glance up at a wooded ridge

That looks over the sea to the east

& you feel the same love & longing

But now you understand

The pain of parting

Is greater than the pain of never returning;

& this hiraeth, this heart pulse

Is more than memory,

Wilder & deeper, stronger & stranger.

It is your heritage,

It is your destiny

& the circle is complete

‘twas never open to be closed

Closed to be opened

Because it has no end

Nor beginning

Just

A sense,

A sensation

In skin, bone, nerve, gut

In muscles at work on the hill;

Not a last, backward glance

But the first

Of a million glances

& no more memories through window glass.