cathedrals appear from a distance, disappear
in the middle ground, then loom when you
approach them through the streets. the
middle distance is the realm of town-planners.
a woman picks her way
across boggy grass
in high heels
the double sound of a train leaving Canterbury West
and a half-whistled fragment of Eric Satie
(‘Eric Satie / sat at tea’)
the needs for a writing
of this kind, small
a certain space, and,
not a ‘derangement of the senses’ (whew!)
but some diffraction occasioned by that space.
Late November, almost the end
for the spotted shark (Torres Strait carving).
Also on the shelf, the image
of a pair of thongs, Japanese umbrellas,
a card with coloured dots – either this is
a copy of Damien Hirst, or else, possibly,