When does joy begin?

when does joy begin. pic

 

in the holding back and not

trying to find nostalgia,

no false memories will serve,

for truth has splinters stuck fast

in the veneer that coats all our recollections

and fragments in the lode threaten to discharge

unreliable soldiers in some other version you once knew

so history in the human mind is geography

the topography in a spatial sense of where we have been

so easily confused in the transmission

of the personal, the private, the hidden and unexplained

and all of those constituents that form

our wonky DNA

A bright morning, fresh start, ensconced in glass

my vision, my blood and the fading of history to a tepid mush

raise questions of

where joy has been

and did it ever come

because I can’t remake a wish

nor go to visit vanishment

but would it be far- fetched to hope, to be in place

if ever joy were to commence.

Destroyevski

Destroyevski. pic

 

It is all as it ever was

despite the incremental improvements

the sense of loss persists as though now

has been appropriated

and I sit in the circle of loss

whatever that is

and fret at the perimeter of sense

though really all meaning has been dis-emvowelled

leaving me with the parched bones

inexpertly sifting for meaning

and trying to divine a process

in this continuum of doubt

that the believer in me might adopt

in favour of the heretic who dances on the fringes

alluring in weak moments

Is this conscience?

Or fear that I may drown in self pity

at the lock-gates of my heart

turning the waters into a whine.

Signs

 

 

Brighton Steps Collage-1

 

Walk. Don’t walk

Street furniture

The architecture of survival

I am surrounded

Guided even, if I care to look

But what is this?

A shifting arcade?

I travel in the line of beauty

Unaware that each stride

May or may not make sense

For my influence is limited

I am simply here

No podium place

No winners’ medal

Just ephemeral distance

A few aches and wrinkles

Survivors’ lines

Where passing traffic

Abraded me

Friction. That is life

And when the sign next lights

With a kind of throbbing urgency

I might even smile

Not yet safe. Not yet spent

On a watching brief

For eyes

Alert to clues