I am taken by a great wave of hawthorn
& the flowers, which you must not touch,
have imprinted themselves in my palms
without intention.

I lean on the bare earth.

I could not lean on the river
that runs just there.

I would plunge
into its depths

& it would not support me,
unless I swam within itballoon buoyant
carried
like a dandelion seed upon the air.

I was beneath a heaven of pear blossoms.
They were falling all about me, such that
I could not breathe easily amongst them.
I had to draw the air thick with their scent
up into my lungs & it bore me aloft
& I fell perpetually with them like
white rain, until the dew of morning
drew me back again to myself.

a lemon drop fell
in my lap
& there was the crackle of bees
overhead

it’s good that the gallaghers are back together
so we can groove to columbia

this is not how I normally speak
groove
it’s what liam says

the early summer is all sneezes & exams
swifts darting between chimneys
jackdaws
magic mushrooms in tiny dosages
as practiced by our friend, the witch

tiny bottles of gin as gifts

melancholy, bereavement, worry, sneezes,
tasting menus, sweat, more worry / the year is turning itself
over from its front to its back & it aches, creaks,
sweats & worries itself silly about everything

later the leaves will fall, but not yet

this poem strictly speaking is a kind of haiku