There Are Times
M
Mark Heathcote
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There are times I want to climb mountains.
And walk through mauve flowering heather bells.
Sometimes, I can't find any happy outcomes.
A ghost walks beside me; nothing repels it.
There are times I want to rise, soar like a hawk.
And assent to the heavens alone to find
A dappled cloud that never lightning forks
It never rains, freezes, or drifts malign.
I want to plummet into the heart of a stone.
And catch fire disintegrate into a song.
A vision of eternal emptiness, a cyclone
I want to centre the baptismal fall aplomb!
Like a kingfisher on his piercing sword
Die like a cradled spider spinning for stars.
Swinging 360-degree angles up untoward
Some lantern homes, beyond all other facades.
Times I want to be here or there, whizz-bang.
There are times I want a homestead made out of
Wattle and daub, guess-you-know, clay and dung
Is what makes my heart sing superfluous?
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