Poem: Electric Grove


You can feel

The full weight of the sky

On you up here

Like a beautiful woman

Pressing her navel against yours

I lean against an old stone wall

And feel its electric geometry

Pulsate through me

As tiny red insects

Blazing with crimson

Mill about

Collecting the dividends

Of a hopeless civilisation

I think we’d all rather lose

A river does not need rules

A tree does not need morals

A skylark does not need singing lessons

Unconsciously obeying

The laws of nature

Incinerating the atrocious gavels

Of any human arbitration

They have everything you could ask for

And more

If you want to know the sacred

Get out of the church

And into the woods

Lie on top of a mountain

And let the sky molest you

Lathering you with

Its electric treacle

I am The Keeper of the Stones

The wood nymphs have been good to me

So I put on my lightning-blue brocade

And slink back into the grove



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