Walking solo
{for my dear friend Chris Proudfoot 1951 - 2022)
Who the hell can see forever?
Wild is the minute, clear is the sky
A world of smell and sight drifts by
Portals of discovery abound.
This newfoundland: sheer cliffs
Flowers, vivid Mesembryanthemums
From the Cape of Good Hope.
The all round invisibility of you
Distracts me from the flesh and blood ,
Of all these half-created
Epiphanies of cloud and sky and sun
Enter the mind as they fly from the eye -
I see the kippering sky rushing by
No time for you and no time for I
Grasp these perceptions, cling to the sigh,
Inscape the day, for wild is the way.
John Marks
Sat 4th Jun 2022 22:50
Dear Holden. Thank you so much. I am very grateful for your help and support on this lonely road. “God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear.' Sylvia Plath.