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from Short March Walkabout

Posted on 25/07/2019 by Dean English

IV

to lay—in the dark
intoning in tune
with the waves moaning
in purposeless calm

is to know this, I
cannot, in the object
hold (the) ‘myself’
inside this busted-lock

of surf beach
changing room
without the cold
suspicion that

the ‘I’ who moves
the green pencil
across the narrow page
of an complimentary

Agriculture notebook
with pencil-hold
compartment
in the spine

wakes alone
/not alone, & isn’t in
the actual, the
Whereness,

but a presence
in a spectrum
calibrated for—

the maculate floor.
om

g!
the clear

crystal grains
holdlight

becomingstars.

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5 thoughts on “from Short March Walkabout”

  1. Pingback: 2awfulness
  2. Mark Prisco Mark Prisco says:
    01/08/2019 at 1:13 pm

    always like yr playful line breaks. om//g, i learnt that tick from you a few years ago. i like how that flutters the mind. i like v much the closing stanzas. i’m glad yr posting. did you submit to that competition?

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  3. Dean English Dean English says:
    27/07/2019 at 7:08 am

    Hi Peter…you know the notebooks? I’ve used them for years, I love them. The experience was brief, but deep enough to sense the immense otherness present everywhere.

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  4. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:
    27/07/2019 at 1:01 am

    Hi Dean, great read as ever. Just hope you weren’t ‘imprisoned’ too long there with your lovingly described notebook in the moment the sand grain/ flooring grain took you within its starlight.

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    1. Mark Prisco Mark Prisco says:
      01/08/2019 at 1:14 pm

      and hello Peter. wheres you been!

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