oh good dog no

 oh good dog no

in the beginning was the word

and the word was dog

the same was in the beginning with dog

for he liked gods

did dog

he named his god

dyslexia 

that’s sit

all changed

all changed

at the terminus

the train 

with the golden name 

(nostalgia)

slowly pulled in

                                no one alighted

they who were we 

were already on the platform 

                                no one got on

they all were waving

at each other

as

the station pulled away

everyone was left standing-by

waiting for it to happen

the good old days are delayed

the tannoy annoyingly immortalised

all change   all change

                                but nothing did

for everything already had 

RS Thomas (again)

  RS Thomas (again)

unwrapping still his rapture’s source 

what finger pressed upon that gift’s bow

his unsteady path

his handrail the only comfort

on ascension’s dark stairs

for he has looked down

for us

has abridged the black chasm 

for us

carrying us on his bent shoulders 

into the bleak wind that blows

through his light’s word

braille

 braille 

braille rain

hanging in  d r o p s  on life’s line

for now 

             when

even the trout stream has gone

and  no 

no amount of a beautiful past

can compensate

this composite of memories

of childhood suns and moons

through the varying openings 

of a window’s breadth 

no

even the webs are brailled 

with the bodies of flies

dust in the corners eyed

failing insight 

into the true meaning of demise

when the sun burns it all away

and the lids shrivel 

for no rain is

why we jaw jaw

 why we jaw jaw

my mind is a ouija board that writes poetry

for me

it is suspended in a universe of words each one a star forming an infinite number of galaxies

each one named  poem

the poet   the reader

binary stars rotating 

at the speed of wonder

that no asked question

can hope to pin in

a cosy algorithm 

 

 nothing but nothing will do

if you have to believe in something

            then believe in this

   that nothing is worth believing in

but still you have to believe in something

           so believe in nothing 

    of course you will never see 

 that the end justified the means

back then

 a poet wrote

i was here

a reader read

i was here 

we put each other back

where we found us