panicfunction

well, the conference was actually rather fun, very little sleep, a lot of alcohol, and even some interesting lectures. this week has been a hurry to finish things off before the easter break. we finally finished filming, though some of the shots were a bit botched, and were ready to start editing when we get back.

at the conference i wrote a couple of poems. strangely ennough my first positiveish work in a while, despite feeling staggeringly awful all weekend. strange also that my little lady friend, who is continually badgering me to stop writing depressing shit, didn't like them. you just can't win: (i'm trying to wirte in a vaguely pastoral vein)

Untitled1:

And in the mornings we delay
our getting dressed, despite the rush
we pause, admire
each others nakedness.

she is the curve of wonder in the arch of flocking birds
she is the smooth trimmed contours
in the ground i walk on
she is the gradient and grace
in the watercolour hills
and the fertile sods of the vale
she is the steady bright, burning constant
the rush of sea between sand dressed toes
and she is seraphim
heaven clothed
all golden

he is compassion and the lightest touch
warm against my wind wracked flesh
he is the cradler of babies
the banishment of chores
and the blue stained lip
from sucking the fountain pen nib
he is subtleness of gesture
scattiness of head
believer in truth, in touch, in the fixed and infinite
the greatest of embracers


Untitled 2:

and he stays silent all the while
takes my hand and leads to safer ground.
we tread pastures to nurture early spring
and spread our palms on the frost just shrugged off
we pass by the Brownfield site development
the quick bud of generic prefabs
the slow jerk of indentured men.
so let our gaze fall on the city spread,
on its ever more elaborate skirts and petticoats.

let our shoes find purchase on the grey slate scree,
let our hearts become unhindered by stops and checks and baffles.
and as the sky drains out from bulked grey saturate
to eggshell white and freckled with the airborne buzz of insect,
he takes my hand and wraps me around
we draw close and closer
and his breath is wet on my pale cheek
and my heart is racing.

and with the quiet drip of evening coming
he encircles me
encloses me, in the thud of his breast,
in his suppleness of limb, he and me,
we are intimate.

and in the quick heady beauty of skin against skin merging
the star pierced sky unfurls into morning.


im off home tomorrow morning which is largely good, itll be great to have a breather from life up here, and see some of my old friends and sleep in a bit. im going for a climbing holiday in the peak district with my dad and brother and some random other people as well, which should be fun. i havent climbed for ages and am about as fit as a pastor in a pear tree, still, back to the grit.

the journey home is 14 hours on a coach, and this is not a good thing, i get very coach sick and im ill as well with a nasty little cold, im going to try and stay up tonight and maybe ill sleep though most of the journey.

so i wont be around for three weeks or so as im not online at home.

not much other to report, im sure therell be lots more to jot down when i get back.