30.

I don’t feel great, something of the puttering flame behind my eyes, it isn’t going out it’s just disturbed. & disturbing me. I feel for my centre, seek for peace, find it nowhere I can get any hold on, holding me, speech like a sigh. Something upsets a blackbird & the alarm is my own. Come Lascaux, come cave bunny, jump up on this bed & touch me, unfreeze your stupid giant friend. Lovely morning light shining on the barn from behind us, picking out the profile of her face, the most delicate fur drawing it into her. Maybe I’ll moan about something a moment, make some complaint for her to hear, fold it up & send it to no-one. Improvise some food for the birds until I manage to get some more seed in. Fill their hungry gap with barley & flax, couscous & apple. Stand at the window saying go on then, solve all my problems. It says we already did, you no longer have them. I can’t really argue with that, I can see how there is nothing here really needing to be solved, least of all the mystery: if it’s not gripping you you’re not reading it. You’ve solved all my problems but of course you have to leave me my challenges, in a sense that’s what the challenge is.