I thought it was high time I turned the sound recording into a more proper entity than a youtube video or an instagram post, with better sound and some self-respect, some dignity, perhaps a little gravitas, even more gravitas than vimeo. Someone in your life needs this poem as an mp3. Maybe it’s you, maybe it’s those anemones.
Here we are in October already. Time slides like the graceful trickster it is. Days lived, weeks lived, months lived – I’ve been telling more stories than ever before, but new written work that’s made it through to publication is thin on the ground.
Tom reads ‘Sometimes a Wild God’ – also a 2-for-1 offer on the A3 poster of the poem for the rest of this Winter. A brief mention of Cynghanedd too.
In which I mutter very briefly about the gathering darkness of the world, and writing, tell you about the SOMETIMES A WILD GOD poster (only £5!) and point you in the direction of Martin Shaw’s good words and a few others’ at that.
In which Tom has had a dream of a new edition of Sometimes a Wild God; old-new words; and his son learns to say ‘Baba Yaga…’
It’s been a long time since I wrote here. It’s been a long time since I wrote anywhere, more than a biro scribble on the back of a receipt, usually a shopping list or the phone number of someone I should call about something that I can’t quite remember, probably something to do with the mighty Hedgespoken truck. I look back on long days of leisure with a laugh, not bitterly, but with amazement.
You need to stay still to learn
Anything worth learning.
In the forest, by the river,
At dawn, or dusk or midnight,
Sit down, be quiet and
Soon enough, you’ll hear
And see your fill.