Something vanished into the scrub

Behind the wallpaper 

Is it so difficult to obtain an essence

On the track today, we, that is myself and the other person together 

Saw somebody frozen under the ice, discarded shiny metallic bottles of gas

Miraculous as a fly in amber this flowering mind germ starts to gestate, to unfold

Turning itself over, revolving into another shape

A crescent of new bulbs starting to bud

A faerie ring,  a ring of fire 

Take the ghost out for a walk, give it an airing.

In slo-mo the folksy grain soaks inwards toward a night time state 

Can you believe the temperature the amounts they talk of

Pushing in further swimming through the weeks like weeds

Skimming over time side stepping a week to get from the beginning (now too far back) to the end (which is now revealing itself in a mist)

String them together hang it all up

Have an egg beat out the wasted energy

Cope on rubber petrol oil gas electricity

The density of your ‘soul’ got to keep it pure somehow

Something stirring now like a hare that shoots up from nowhere and races of across the shingle

We saw it that time, but did we really recognise its portent, its folkloric significance in that

Eerie context among the marrow grass and the sea wort

The lonely lighthouse silently rotting on the peninsular redundant

Out of place like a spent candle on a crumbling cake it waits for extinction

Like the fuse for the bombs they test nearby once

An idea is alight then 

The chain of events has almost already happened

To begin again the loop continues

The train arrives and departs at once 

Then you know you live in ‘forever’ space.