AFTER LONDON

The silence deepens.

As if it were a living being
it forages in the forest.

The next step taken
takes me out of the present

into history
into fantasy

as if I have become
a fairy story.

Tropes trooping through
the clearing.

The huff and puff
of a big bad wind.

The silence broken.

Inside  the belly
of the forest

where green is
the only colour seen

lies a partly
digested house.

Vines snaking through
its empty windows.

Its roof thrown
upon its floor.

Its wall crumbling
back into nature.

I sit and read my
Richard Jefferies.

A finger of frond
reading along with me

eager to turn
the next page.

The silence
deepens.


*


Richard Jefferies...he of the beautiful nature writing that influenced the nature writing of poet Edward Thomas.

Jefferies's novel, After London (1885), can be seen as an early example of "post-apocalyptic fiction": after some sudden and unspecified catastrophe has depopulated England, the countryside reverts to nature, and the few survivors to a quasi-medieval way of life.

The house gone to ruin that nature takes back is my memory of numerous houses I have come across including even one on the island of Lampedusa.

JULIAN IS WRITING A POEM      

"The thud, thud of a horse's hoof
does not alarm fish."  

MIND UNDER WATER - 1883
Richard Jefferies

Fishes flee him.

They can feel his thoughts
touch them.

Here, Creux Harbour
on the Island of Sark.

Mummy fish tries not to laugh
as her little darlings dart...

It's only a poet!"
she tells her younglings

"thinking thoughts
they won't hurt you.

Julian's vibrations
pass through them.

"It's what poets do
before they turn the world  into words"

The little fish listen
with open mouths.

"As far as I can tell...it's a Julian
one of the cleverest kind one can find

a man composed of equal parts
wit and charm

an all shall be well and
all shall be well type of guy."

Julian is thinking
of nothing

but horses.
Horses.

The fish don't
even get a look in.

He sees the great Shires
being swum in the harbour.

Such a magnificence
of being

decanted from land
to sea

the great hooves
treading water

free to be themselves
enjoying their day at the sea's side.

Julian is alive
with this image

the sheer
awe of it all.

The fishes think
nothing of it.

They are used to horses
galloping among them.

It's the vibrations
of the poet's thoughts

that tickles them.

"But our Mam..?""
a small fry ventures

"...there are no horses
here....and now?"

"Ahhh that doesn't bother poets
ya see...they see

both what is there and not there
or what may be!"

She quotes the great 16th century fish
"Nothing is so but thinking make it so!"

Later, at the Candie Gardens
on another island altogether

Julian sits, sips...
a double espresso.

And again.
A double espresso..

We see the words flow
onto the page

charged with the grandeur
of the great Shires

as the little fishes look on
amused at the poet's

coffee coloured thoughts.

AFTER LONDON

The silence deepens.

As if it were a living being
it forages in the forest.

The next step taken
takes me out of the present

into history
into fantasy

as if I have become
a fairy story.

Tropes trooping through
the clearing.

The huff and puff
of a bad wind rising.

The silence broken.

Inside  the belly
of the forest

where green is
the only colour seen

lies a partly
digested house.

Vines snaking through
its empty windows.

Its roof thrown
upon its floor.

Its wall crumbling
back into nature.

I sit and read my
Richard Jefferies.

A finger of frond
reading along with me

eager to turn
the next page.

The silence
deepens.

SHHHH JULIAN IS WRITING A POEM !      

"The thud, thud of a horse's hoof
does not alarm fish."  

MIND UNDER WATER - 1883

Richard Jefferies

*

Fishes flee him.

They can feel his thoughts
touch them.

Here, Creux Harbour
on the Island of Sark.

Mummy fish tries not to laugh
as her little darlings dart...

It's only a poet!"
she tells her younglings

"thinking thoughts
they won't hurt you.

Julian's vibrations
pass through them.

"It's what poets do
before they turn the world  into words"

The little fish listen
with open mouths.

"As far as I can tell...it's a Julian
one of the cleverest kind one can find

a man composed of equal parts
wit and charm

an all shall be well and
all shall be well type of guy."

Julian is thinking
of nothing

but horses.
Horses.

The fish don't
even get a look in.

He sees the great Shires
being swum in the harbour.

Such a magnificence
of being

decanted from land
to sea

the great hooves
treading water

free to be themselves
enjoying their day at the sea's side.

Julian is alive
with this image

the sheer
awe of it all.

The fishes think
nothing of it.

They are used to horses
galloping among them.

It's the vibrations
of the poet's thoughts

that tickles them.

"But our Mam..?""
a small fry ventures

"...there are no horses
here....and now?"

"Ahhh that doesn't bother poets
ya see...they see

both what is there and not there
or what may be!"

She quotes the great 16th century fish
"Nothing is so but thinking make it so!"

Later, at the Candie Gardens
on another island altogether

Julian sits, sips...
a double espresso.

And again.
A double espresso..

We see the words flow
onto the page

charged with the grandeur
of the great Shires

as the little fishes look on
amused at the poet's

coffee coloured thoughts.

Time travel
Wears a body down
All that back and forth
Up and down some Jefferies tubes
Forgetting what’s been remembered

No cousin conundrums…
Thank goddess!
But I’ve seen me—
Gleefully pulling kitties tails
Splashing in a kiddie pool

The past is easy travel
The future most hard
The worst is what we don’t know
But we let it happen:
Super moons, king tides

AFTER LONDON

The silence deepens.

As if it were a living being
it forages in the forest.

The next step taken
takes me out of the present

into history
into fantasy

as if I have become
a fairy story.

Tropes trooping through
the clearing.

The huff and puff
of a big bad wind.

The silence broken.

Inside  the belly
of the forest

where green is
the only colour seen

lies a partly
digested house.

Vines snaking through
its empty windows.

Its roof thrown
upon its floor.

Its wall crumbling
back into nature.

I sit and read my
Richard Jefferies.

A finger of frond
reading along with me

eager to turn
the next page.

The silence
deepens.

*

Richard Jeffeeries...he of the beautiful nature writing that influenced the nature writing of poet Edward Thomas.
Jefferies's novel, After London (1885), can be seen as an early example of "post-apocalyptic fiction": after some sudden and unspecified catastrophe has depopulated England, the countryside reverts to nature, and the few survivors to a quasi-medieval way of life.
The house gone to ruin that nature takes back is my memory of numerous houses I have come across including even one on the island of Lampedusa

JULIAN IS WRITING A POEM      

"The thud, thud of a horse's hoof
does not alarm fish."  

MIND UNDER WATER - 1883
Richard Jefferies



Fishes flee him.

They can feel his thoughts
touch them.

Here, Creux Harbour
on the Island of Sark.

Mummy fish tries not to laugh
as her little darlings dart...

It's only a poet!"
she tells her younglings

"thinking thoughts
they won't hurt you.

Julian's vibrations
pass through them.

"It's what poets do
before they turn the world  into words"

The little fish listen
with open mouths.

"As far as I can tell...it's a Julian
one of the cleverest kind one can find

a man composed of equal parts
wit and charm

an all shall be well and
all shall be well type of guy."

Julian is thinking
of nothing

but horses.
Horses.

The fish don't
even get a look in.

He sees the great shires
being swum in the harbour.

Such a magnificence
of being

decanted from land
to sea

the great hooves
treading water

free to be themselves
enjoying their day at the sea's side.

Julian is alive
with this image

the sheer
awe of it all.

The fishes think
nothing of it.

They are used to horses
galloping among them.

It's the vibrations
of the poet's thoughts

that tickles them.

"But our Mam..?""
a small fry ventures

"...there are no horses
here....and now?"

"Ahhh that doesn't bother poets
ya see...they see

both what is there and not there
or what may be!"

She quotes the great 16th century fish
"Nothing is so but thinking make it so!"

Later, at the Candie Gardens
on another island altogether

Julian sits, sips...
a double espresso.

And again.
A double espresso..

We see the words flow
onto the page

charged with the grandeur
of the great shires

as the little fishes look on
amused at the poet's

coffee coloured thoughts.


**

We left Julian Stannard at the table as we went to pursue the museum that awaited us inside. I jokingly commanded Julien to use the time to write a poem. And when we came back to him...indeed he had. A great poem about writing with the sun and horses swimming in the bay at Sark. One felt humbled by his ability and the ease with which over a double expresso he could write so brilliantly. I was hoping that some of that ease would rub off on me but alas no.

I was like a little raft watching an ocean liner pass by in the night.  

All hail the Julian who shall be 'the poet' for ever hereafter.