Cabo Raso

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Sadness really comes

out of nowhere,

the sun's not so low yet.

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These sand dunes catch

the low light,

so nicely.

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The cape—

not of good hope,

but maybe this evening

for me.

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I read somewhere

the heart is slow,

I believe it.

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That line of cliffs lit up—

no greater

or less great than me.

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Shadows of these fence posts long

over my bare knees.

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I only see yellow flowers,

‘less I close my eyes.

I’m lying, I saw one blue—

down in a dried river bed.

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Those hills each one so perfect,

shaped just like a breast.

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I could live here

I could die here—just

don't talk in-betweens.

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Keep that door left open,

sadness’ll let itself out.

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A long shadow over that hill,

and I thought the sky

cloudless.

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When you're from England

palm trees never get old.

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A white bird picking

through the scrub and then gone.

God knows which one.

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When the long shadow of

my big toe says

‘its time to go’ I’m up!

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An Italian couple call God a pig,

on seeing tyre marks

in the sand.

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Two planes coming low

over the beach,

a war could start anytime!

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Nobody wants to be alone,

and really nobody is.

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My big toe again,

fitting in

the perfect boardwalk hole.

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Small stones and long shadows,

all I have to tell time.

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Trees, flowers, bushes,

they’re all beautiful

when you know how to look.

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Her thin dark legs on the path ahead,

her steps are slightly awkward.

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Comfortable shoes and a shirt

for the walk back,

this evening is really a joy.

*

Moon low over the sand dunes

a plane passes quietly between.

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Low sun on the coming waves,

dark shapes of surfers

rise and fall.

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The grass on the top o’ that sand dune there—

somebody’s losing

their hair!

*

Big orange truck,

I’m in luck!

or have been before,

somewhere.

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Evening already,

pissing into the wind!

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Black rocks pock marked

as the sun comes out again,

coming from under a cloud.

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There’re vipers in these bushes,

don’t wave that thing around!

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Walking back ‘long the headland

this evening.

Colour alone'd

make a life worthwhile.

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My shadow out over the road,

its head on the waving grass.

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And Sintra palace in the last

of the sunlight,

high up on it’s hill.

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That long mess of clouds,

this long mess of life—

the sun coming out other side.

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I’ve had sandwiches for dinner

some o’ the best nights of my life,

and god am I hungry now!

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Sea spray sent to the air

falls slowly,

the low sun meets the sea.

The wind in the grass, the light

on the water, in it I recognise me.

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Maybe one day I’ll be as I am,

with myself this evening,

with you.

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I’d be that dead cactus

by side o’ the road,

if every evening’d be like this.

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Is there another way to say it?

—yes many!

I only picked one.

*

Naked pits lit up in the sand

I should stop,

and watch the setting sun.

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Green and red rings

circle the sun,

its face burning grey in my eyes.

Till just a red lip

of light on the water,

is gone, is gone, is gone!

*

Pink skies over pine trees

I can’t believe in anything,

other than everything is.

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Ahead the headland of the south side,

low boats on the darkening sea.

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Light in the sky from the city.

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Big cloud,

pink over

night.

*

Lisbon, October 2021