The Equivalent by Paul John Roach The equivalent of the wood in my head Is the wood on the hillside; The equivalent of the long ride, the green lane, the winding path, Is the dream that alerts us to the unimagined. The darkness beneath ferns Or under riverbanks Is like a closed shop of goods […]
Whatever It Is By Paul John Roach I am a guest In varied landscapes. I pass the time In days or decades. I am attached To a line in the sand. I look for confirmation In dream. I laugh conditionally As I search for joy. When it’s over How could I help myself? I am […]
Pooling Water (Homage to Saraswati, the river goddess of knowledge, music and art) Pooling water attracts the goddess and the swan In the flow is light and the light moves on. It moves on because it cannot stay Everything that blooms experiences decay. Pooling water that is full of seed and sperm Creates the conditions […]
LIFE by Paul John Roach Life. It’s precarious. My dad was taken (As they say) At 52, Which I consider young Being now 67 And hoping For a few more good years. The length of days Is immaterial, of course, The 27 Club, for instance, D H Lawrence 45 Shakespeare 52 Elvis 42. What are […]
True Story from South India Poem by Paul John Roach The wild bulls of the evergreen hills The Gaur Have left their hoof prints On the path where we walk Eight thousand feet up In the blue Nilgiri Mountains. They press their two thousand pound bodies Into the tropical earth above Ootacamund. If we met […]