I watched a bird of prey above the rooftops. Its soaring is beautiful: such a precise twist of its tail, to change direction; a great strong beat of its wings; and most of the time it simply floats. It finds food on the wing, so spends its time in flight, and is therefore supremely good at flying: gliding, with minimal effort, using the air currents and thermals. Compare the rapid flapping of a tit, who flies to get somewhere, to get out of danger, to a nest out of harm’s way, but hunts on the ground. The tit’s flight also is perfectly fitted to its needs, and its circumstances, but less obviously beautiful.
I did something sensible today. I am fair pleased with myself. Part of me tells myself that it was completely obvious, and I should not have taken thirty months to start doing it, but, well, I am doing it now.
I have been with Yvonne this morning. I surprised myself, by getting so upset so quickly.
And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
And I said, “No, fuck you, I want a LIGHT, and if I don’t get one I am not fucking playing.” So I sat down, and fuck me if I am going anywhere.
Do have a look at the text. It is only the first three lines which are usually quoted- as by Judith on Wednesday evening, she showed off her framed, beautifully calligraphed copy. The rest is pretty meh- it is easier to state the problem than the solution. As I said with one of my first poems:
Why are the poets incomplete?
Minds are as good as they were of old,
but work that is clever is hard and cold
and I, self appointed to judgment seat
just add to the hubbub my half-starved bleat
Out of our poverty comes our wrong
We see we’re worthless, and call this Truth-
Hollow men filled with straw, forsooth!
So pleased with our findings, we sing so long,
We don’t miss the beauty or good from our song
Onywye. Something sensible. The gas meter on my rented flat uses tokens. When the token is used up, the gas cuts off, which is a bit of a pain when I want to shower. The meter is outside, so I have to dress, go outside to trigger the “Emergency Credit”, and then put cash on the token before that runs out too. Irritating. Bastards, why can’t I pay by direct debit like everyone else? Because, initially, because I had not rented for more than a year.
So, I have at last decided to put money on the token before the credit runs out. Simple, really, and then I will not get my gas cut off. Rather than just resenting the credit-meter, and being discommoded for it, I have done what the gas supplier wants and stopped suffering. After thirty months in the house. I am both pleased that I have done this sensible thing and angry with myself that it has taken me so long.