8/3, no. 11

Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,

Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,

A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea

Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries

Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes

Ebon in the hedges, fat

With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.

I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.

They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.

Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks

Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.

Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.

I do not think the sea will appear at all.

The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.

I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,

Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.

The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.

One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.

The only thing to come now is the sea.

From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,

Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.

These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.

I follow the sheep path between them.

A last hook brings me

To the hills’ northern face, and the face is orange rock

That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great

Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmith

Beating and beating at an intractable metal.

I sometimes feel as though I haven't thought in a while. I used to be so incandescently filled with thoughts, analyses, and opinions on everything - a pen dropping to a floor, a dime left on the bookshelf, a fast burn to the hand by a hot oven. but since about March, I feel like most of my life has rapidly been filling up with more "do" than "think." it's a nice change. I actually really like it, but I know that I will soon be reacquainted with my old mental habits and internal ways. I will once again be envenomed by the processes which once comprised my life. rather than thinking only about loving the time with loved ones, I will resort to reading more, thinking more, and - my greatest fear but most common habit - doing less. it's inevitable, and I make it seem worse than it is (or maybe that's because I'm just so well-versed in this art). it'll be nostalgic when it hits me that my life has really changed and my mind has gone back to its former ways. a couple of quotes referenced and shared between me and my good friend and alarmingly alike pseudo-twin sum it up quite well:

“Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings — always darker, emptier, simpler.” -Nietzsche

‎"I wish I could throw off the thoughts which poison my happiness. And yet I take a kind of pleasure in indulging them." -Chopin