The Psychonaturalist Notes

Reedflare flamereed flickerflicker emberkernels lap air, conflagration without heat

In the lap of the grain as it breaks against gust

Amongst reedsway, cootcall, waveruffle, barkgangsign, trunksundials

Amongst Geese and Seagull echoes perfect reflections under a halfmoon and quiet blue

Evensong of last bell before eyeshorizon darkens and thought
sinks into eyes well to fetch waters reverie into light.

Winter colours layered weather bittercoldflares inside skin, cloudsputter sharpcinder ice crackles faces.

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The Big Pit

has long drive from main gate a rich house. Six
Security guards sit in one floor old building , play cards, warm ourselves
ogle gash.

Door reached through slurry tides
slosh into wellies.
Coal packed trucks roar past their tyres twice your size.

Walkroadside. Don’t wadethrough. Slurrysea yawns
causeway edge to middle.You are blind. Some potholes sink beyond deep as England.

Pick your way with care over gantries.
One guard lost grip, Caught hold
just saw his
hard hat somersault thirty feet down hit
brown wet mud and slip under duvet smooth.

Keep two-by-four handy for up top
coals piled up. Eastwards from village
come up
tonight. Sell it door to door when it’s nicked
and we’ve not given them good hiding.

Mrs O’Brien gives us Christmas dinner Christmas Day. Warm plates in Tommys microwave.
Little Billy’ll be bring his t.v., again.
And after your snap if you get bored
you can
always go on patrol outside.

Don’t forget your Walkie Talkie for
Takes good four hours trog round perimeter.

Watch for Mad Monk as he walks in mud
All pits have ghosts.
Monasteries under slag.
Don’t tell no Archaeologist.
Stop production. Jobs on line.

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The Fag End

I worked in a dept. store to be closed due
to recession. On day received scraps of paper,
hasty redundancy notices, out of blue,
Manager said ‘ Can we move light fittings over
there. And bring those shades over here.’ Training sesh
had explained customers needed fresh
to buy. They soon get bored. Need 30 days or less.
‘item bite.’ Job Centre I’d worked at six months temp
said same. Jobs on boards replaced everyday.
Once items not sell they’re placed at best sell layer.
We had lunch. I needed air, to get away.
Saw St. George’s demolished without a prayer.

Everything is a burning fag end.

I lit up something on which to depend.

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Always back
To the place makes it sacred,
Always back to you
Your leavings, sores, bridges

Flail and break of clouds,
recesses nodules filaments
Step into habit
Commonplace tread
Common prayer

Winter is a silhouette

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Winter is a silhouette.
A definition by outline,
colour bled into starkness
a flat surface
as if world ragged paper

Shy the inexhaustible shy
of Winter, worry away the rest
Wear worn decay the rest
hunkers into itself
as if afeard, afeard for itself

The Manvers Reinvention

Manvers noon stroll: In blue
of rock and pebble and log
Shadows of moments passed.

With or without

Colour brings change
Water to sand to wood
A morph of texture
What does the heart see?

Step Pennine Basin with your eyes
Inverted folded faulted
measures and seams.

Before tranquil consider beneath
The water whole bricks, wires, fly
Tipped blue skies, lobbed clouds

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Christmas Centa a Barnsley wi art colour

Progress builds
Progress demolishes
to improve

Hundred year old buildings stand
intricate decoration
amid new progressive concepts
of space and place

Commercial attraction
Industrial redevelopment
Recovery and reinvention
Construction demolition.

Winter Clarity

A nesting moon.
Manmade and natural light.
Moon careening between smokeless chimney pots.
Moon hides behind naked limbs.