and suddenly you may fall into a place
populated by strange
empty hours filled with the hesitant light of afternoons
or of being caught unawares in conversation, and
startled – like birds,
clear-felled lots, hastily forgotten,
bald hillsides, prone to erosion,
is this a wilderness, or a devastation?
A loss, or a pause?
* * *
nb. And Suddenly is a very old doggerel of terrible Vogon poetry by yours truly. Mental Health by way of ecology, or “writing-with” nature – as inspired by the works of Robert MacFarlane, Gary Snyder, Murray Bookchin (kinda).
Wake up, bleary-minded. Bed is warm with the press of bodies (wife and cats) and the light is just ’round the corner from arrived. Pray. Water. Then strong coffee. Try not to trip over the cats now chirruping about the kitchen floor. Get washed, open the windows. Take a moment to be an outside creature; wordlessly snuffing at the ozone and looking at the plants. More nicotine and caffeine in equal measures. Make sure that everything and everyone is fed and watered before the business of the day starts properly. Later I’ll boot up the laptop and check the world hasn’t done anything stupid while the sun hasn’t been around this side of the hemisphere. Morning injections of data supplied through the crackling radio, or from the email lists. At some point stretches, and a (very) brief attempt at some yoga.
And lastly; a little white pill.