october 16

tangerine reflection in the milk of clippenham stream

like looking through old thick negatives that brown heat

I am at a lip in the stream – a single branch thick and fallen crosses the water, caught leaves hold back, overhead light makes for glitter og vertical diamonds, bristling with bubbles

I am sitting in the beauty and sublime while missing my lecture on Burke and Kant and beauty and sublime I miss it and yet am in the doing

does life ‘narrow’ down or ‘widen’ so much that being with a stream is life enough?

walked along further

found a triangular field

took the horizon line of beeches and skyline

the stream got harder

then had a moment stripped off and went in – it was cold, one dunk each was plenty

invigoratedĀ  carried that on and in my body all day

October 12

the line of the branch dips in the water, the reflected branch deepens and heightens and downs

a lasso back

reflects down down

the branch has a richer life under the water

yet its not under

– I look down into the sky its trees reaching down up
and feel the need to leap down

– linger of dead sheep
mulled wool sodden in stream floating skull ribs rising

a double bone holds the crook of the source stream source

did it come here to die, to lie in the ooze that is its start?

foraging plastic tubs, corrugated iron, old tanks, plastic bags ruining like copper

held in the belly of the holding lake, a circumference of pooling

willowed, ashed, beeched all lying in and over

glide over the reflected flat of waterwith this sun on the water it is white, tumbled sky but lighter

sky light


flat down

two hawks overhead, two mushrooms orange at my feet, autumned leaves

The souls of sheep slipped into the water, leaving the world to pick the bones