What’s the address? an Advent poem

Introduction:
This poem was written as I looked forward to a continued recovery from two years of serious inflammation of the brain.

The illness has destroyed many memories. Images from the past have helped restore a sense of self and well-being.

 



1.

No stranger – but I’ll stop there.

The rest you know as better left unsaid:

another best avoided rhyme.

Obliquely, strangely, through projection;

hermetic is a dialogue as well,

speech to an audience always there;

inside, outside, every cell.

 

 

2.

A steady tumble through a door

some call Advent. See those goods, they’re more

than our possessions, or an urge to stick a

label to a thing, acknowledge love; that shared hope

spreads. And canisters prove useful by not bursting,

stick around, and old, neglected stuff – like turkeys –

reappear.

 

 

3.

Busy people in a time of plague

turn to home improvements:

plan, then build, a garden fence,

rooms in their roofs. I’m cleaning and

amazed at how much dust

accumulates, and long before I’m done

our spiders have restored their webs,

co-operate in trapping moths that

eat your sweaters. More than time to

celebrate my second-rate intentions.

All thanks to costly pharmacology.

 

 

4.

That sudden movement was it

on – or in – the eye? A self-protecting insect

simply quits its prey. There’s no way of

knowing if no evidence is found: must’ve been a

rearrangement – liquids; pain referred;

a side-effect of brain electric switching.

 

 

 

Adam Clarke-Williams
photos Jane Dunster

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One Response to What’s the address? an Advent poem

    1. to Jane and Adam
      I was prompted to go on the internet to see what had happened to you both after finding some old photos of Peterborough Rd days. So sorry to hear of your illness Adam, and hope you remember me.
      Great poem and pictures by Jane
      Would be good to get in touch
      Love

      Comment by Philip Greenwood on 31 March, 2022 at 9:16 am

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