Day 1 (official)

Green. Walking the familiar track. Just me and flirting wrens, the hum of a massive, exploratory bee the only motor. The green. A tyre mark in dried mud an eye-catching ghost of force and speed, obsolete as single use plastic. I feel a lifetime’s unnoticed tension drop out of me at the sense of cessation.

No more violence towards the wild, subtle, dextrous, complex, exquisite green. What a dream. But on this quiet day I can suddenly hear that other world breathing. A woman in barefoot boots and a wool coat like a cloak smiles down in passing from the top road, a ranger from ancient tales. We’re in this together and the tears flow, from a pool that feels fathomless. Later I’m shy to step out of the road when a van comes up behind, but he’s grinning anyway.

And after that release here’s my heart. In green. I feel more than I ever have in the trunks and hedges, can see the little paths and homes and signs. This huge horse chestnut says hello. I hear more than I ever have. I imagine a next life as one single pennywort leaf in the colony on the branch over the path and it pleases me as much as friend’s loving squeeze does, coming in on the phone. Soft tears. Nettle soup waits at home.

Acid Wood

I am taking you into the forest.

Horsed men hunted here before I did

I’ll show you these pony paths

Where the dry-bone beechnut earth

Leads our feet, crackling,

Not dank dark spinneys but

Sun sparkled genteel rooms.

We’ll waltz in the court of the Deer King

And lean in against soft barkless wood

Where he’s rubbed.

Sinuous trunks temple dance

For lightning scarred oaks

Let’s lose time between bracken screens

Make a bed on the heather

Lie in amongst acid greens


Love in a New Time

Who’s driving this pen then?
That light behind the light,
Through the leaves,
Beyond the trees?
Cells that lost a certain weight
Are dancing. Laughing like the brushes
Watching us roll in the paint instead.

Who’s dissolving these fruits then?
Flesh fermenting; ultra sweet
Ecstasies of seed
Intoxicated wasp berserkers
Dance songs about these
Heroic deeds. In circular time;
Story and dream.

Fish silver wave tops
Make love to flow with form.
An orgone shake-shake!
Black eyes deep with space
Only ever reflect. Layers in
Before you can finally see
That the ocean is smiling.


Another Path

There’s another path:
Behind the towpath,
Beyond the hedgerow,
It shimmers with elderflowers
Like snow.

Who’s using that?
Not the joggers,
Clagged feet and clogged memory.
Amongst the hemlock;
A slower amble.

You slip and follow.
Inspiration; a tang of cicely
For your songs.
Sneak into the wet spots,
Track deer into the pool.

A still trap of
Easy-green pondweed.
This isn’t solid ground;
There’s no hard standing.
Kingfisher flash:

Dart with it into the gloom
Between falling walls
And rotting fences.
Is this a path? Or a desire;
To slide away into the rushes.