All The Things

29 Aug 2018

A manifesto for autumn

Take no harvest now,
Before this season's end.
The havest has been in play too long
The fields are barren and stripped
Hollow reeds rise from churned earth
And snouth and teeth and bristle will rifle
Through the wet layers of burned up leaves

Soon the trees are to become bonelike
And curl in on themselves
Slick in shades of umber and crimson and sepia
Fog is coming to lie low in cold humid air
Woodsmoke and musty leaves and the rot
For it is the turning time in this forest
 
Let it feed into your body
Let us grow wild
Untamed and unpicked
Let the fruit all drop to melt away

As small new buds
Like tiny bones
Grow from the razing fire
An uncontrollable burn
Set by turning with the world

Let it all fall again like a wildman
Coming back from the forest
Let him in again
You thought him lost
As in spring everything is prim
And squared off neat tidy
Buds of white and pink and yellow
And in summer bulging all

Now we go down to what is real
Let the cracks show
At the base of the tree
And the branches will hold their fingers up
Like orants to the bone white moon

Order was a priviledge
It was a drastic step towards heaving green masses
Direction from above
The great eye
Projecting silver linings all around future interactions
Masquerading those benefits as motivation
All the while filling the void with fear, lethargy and dogma
Staying inside a raincloud just hoping to catch the sun
Order is fakery

Long live the wildmen!

We cower for no one
Our eyes glint redshot
Mudded and mad
We speak for no one
The forest speaks through us
With a grin we shine within
And wait for Autumn to come

Classroom

I took a long walking holiday across the Scottish Highlands with one of my best friends. It was the first extended expedition i'd ever ...