flight

(Cheryl Garner, 2013)

 

And into air I spin and twist:

I never knew my scattered world

This high, this bright, this burning light.

And down below they swirl in blue.

 

The forests and the fields, they flow.

Their dizzy hearts, their green and grey

Are fading out, escaping from

The boxes and the traps we built.

 

And here, I hang on cirrus lines,

On eddies at the edge of space,

In jouissance, in points beyond

The passing earth and all it was.

 

It slips away: a distant star,

A point of light in boundless light.

 

Journal Entry – 23/11/1998

The privacy of my writing is becoming of greatest importance to me. I contort myself into all kinds of shapes so that people cannot read. It is not that I am ashamed of the words I write, nor that I am particularly bothered by people reading. It is simply that I cannot be sure what I am about to write. You see the words come to me, not me to them. I am not in control, am merely a receiver. From where they come I’m not overly sure. For certain it is not this place, this time. They simply pass through me and on to the page. This subject is, of course, circular here. Like this journey. It will – all things being equal – be a return.

I find all the greatest points in life follow this pattern. And they are not for me to question, merely to receive.

 

Photography by Cheryl Garner (2013)

poetry by thecheesewolf (2013)

Train Journal by Gavin Jones (1998)