Scene, Perspectively, From Platform One & Stubborn Anatomy

Scene, Perspectively

The same wooden shed and the same shed with
The metal door, the same wood shed and same
Stable, now a chicken coup, and the same barn, now rusty,
With one less drainpipe, next to the same clay field
Arduously attempting to grow wheat.

The same sun sets in the same place; a fridge-freezer
Stands now in the garden, awaiting disposal. New
Watering cans, but same old pitchforks and spades,
Milk churns display nasturtiums year in, year out; a
Gate erected under your supervision,

As we shared same face, same time,
Same left and right night after night, same
Love, same very clay from which we’re made,
Staring samewards at same sunset, under
Which all is aureate and equinanimous.


From Platform One

Once I was a sage,
Remembering my eyes of sagacity,
Sagacity.
Before the drugs set in
I used to look at the world
Through a different feeling;
Contentment with all -
A knowing,
Knowing.

Once I was a sage,
Sagely sitting at the train station;
My eyes revealing me
The things they perceived.
Before the ketamine
And trawls down stairs,
Bumping, plodding,
Growing.

Once I was a sage,
Though I did not know it then,
Then.
Eyes peeled like potato skin;
Sagely wizened pupils.
When my eyes used to see,
Before the drugs set in,
They saw,
Saw all that they were
Showing.


Stubborn Anatomy

Four years to figure the incorrigible mass.
Of wasted words am I an ambassador; it’s
Always stunk the same; overnight it went
From summer to winter. And back again.

Thanks to your letter, whereas I thought my
Letters were of truths too gyroscopic to be
Anything but diminishing; brought back to
Surface in a world which still shines slightly.

This glimmer, seen from a precipice precarious,
The closest yet, in a mind of closed eyes, and
Visuals to haunt the deepest sceptic, a flash
Miniscule, but enough to beckon bright.