three

(poems for the summer)

Brighton coast / Photo by Rachel Silverlight

Night (summer).

 In the stillness of the night I hear
Some car pass down some road.

Or is it the sea? That roaring rumbling
Sound is so distant and so faint.

Or the wind that whistles down these streets
Between the buildings like channels to
The sea?

No matter; the laughing gulls are up.

 *

Three.

The sea belongs to me.
The sea belongs to me.
Three times I have swum now
Three days in the sea
And three makes it true
Don’t it?

The sea belongs to me.

 * 

Fixed
(after Camus)

I will die not happy not sad
it will come to me just as it is
and it will be everything
I will feel some trepidation before,
but no more than any man or woman
at any other change coming.

After all it is fixed
like pain is fixed
and joy has its limit
and cold is fixed
and so death
from the moment we’re birthed
and before
played out in the lottery of the stars
in the light of any distant sun
still playing out forever.

THIS IS HOW YOU’RE GOING TO DIE

poems for my friends

I was recently at Wilderness Festival, held in the beautiful Cornbury Park, Oxfordshire. Apart from the blazing guitars of Rodrigo y Gabriela, an insane production of La Haine with live soundtrack by the Asian Dub Foundation, gentle games of croquet to work off the whisky, rowing boats and pond swimming, late night parties and delightful woodland wanderings, one of the best things about this festival were the talks that were given, hosted by the Idler Academy and Secret Forum.

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