15 09 07

waking up in the golden light of the med
olive and palm
pass
hills bathed in a warm morning yellow light

This is Cannes, large yachts
my existential pangs like indigestion
- regrets I’ve had a few -

Nice
With an aim in mind
South through the heat into Italy
Genoa bend the arc that tips south
Green Liguria
the dipping nets orange amongst the olives shadows
Flat to south to Grosetto
with an aim in mind (this time)

Giving way to words

a kind of poetry in-between the pages of drawings and notes
my whim, my romance, my dreaming
like somnambulant mesmeric music.

I am at Il Parco hotel near Grosetto
In some hinterland, viewing across ducts and flat roofs
An orange sun setting behind deep pines
as if to capture the scent
light perfumed
a rich pigment

the moon thin crescent
towards an evening above trees
through a window - recollection and memory
in air

lessening light and memory grows stronger

this place
as if another Eden
like gaps in suburbia
the parks edge
going out another place
voices in the dark




Cicadas
as loud as the traffic
- you forget that sound -

memory not as stored baggage
memory as an alive sense

I put my memory into storage
or read my memory as a book
as a recollection
as a re-animation


Sat in the restaurant of Il Parco
totally Italian
slightly gruff
no quarter from the waiters.