Gossamer Lines

Suspended from a fleece gossamer field
Sheep are conveyed through interest
Dissolved past Kings Sutton I awake
A gossamer steam of Mocha
And as though from a dream,
Heyford shines reality: cows
Spotted with sourceless sun
Beyond the platform, frameless webs hedge trees.

The organic day lights Tackley
with defined lines and a vague history
Throwing trebuchet thoughts from telegraph lines
It is light, but the cows spot trouble
Lying laughs of rain
the mist cedes granularity
Dull water snakes bridges
Fields bake housing estates
Sun shorn sheep hide in white
Vague intentions of Sit or Stand
The mist hisses through the train
And I am gone to London
To my Sit or my Stand or my Lunch or my Gone.

Let us take our Caravans
As the sun is caught in its hammock bed
Vague like me, content to graze
On the indistinct pleasure of being.
Let us take our sidings
Pile up our hopes
Slurred down slopes unhurried by fear.
London, but in brown beige blocks
Resides not here, but hangs like threads
Of beer, seams of Oxford near.

Oxford brings hissing suspicion
Busy in its anticipation of deeds not done
I am not alone.
I know next before having left;
I am presentient.
Mock a cold dull glow
Pink tendrils breathe life virulently
But I am forthright in my onwards journey;
Lines may diverge but they all tell stories -
Mine today, a sentry to be defined.

Let the flocks come with me to Radley
They coast the inland haze
Current with the day, curving intent
Above, lazy rollercoastering play
People pass away.

Bags of ballast molest my eyes.
Come on Cullum,  is this the best you have?
Sky blue blubber encompasses handlebars
Arse sunk, goodbye rude slave.

Green is the two by four in Appleford
So close to Cullum they could be joined
The progeny might be uncomfortable
But bundled between these tufted shores
Only envy scoffs the scuff of these green loins

I espy the shut hut of Didcot Parkway
Volcano A went away to dream of hot latte.
Smile, my friend as you learn to stand still
Your pressed suit prepares you well for your journeys.
I am free now to see the sliding glee of new days
Each person hand steams their personal space
Pressed to intention, joined in this way
I will see you, or those like you
In the whistleless city, you must move your own day.
Too long to linger, Didcot Parkway.
I victory salute a flush of wind
Not affrayed by slight freight delays.

Now the flare of day defines all horizons
Still vague houses pine for rows of fleet fun
Ring out the bell of endless warehouses
The supermarket plays once work has been done.

Oh sweet joy! Cholsey sings of Free Wi Fi!
White gates flank black pyramids that just fly by.
Still waters reflect the sky constancy
While a traveler fields chest high thoughts
Cleaving through tracks he once wrought
Previously, carefully, ponderously, seasonally.

Goring & Streetley fleetingly pass
Like some ancient manufacturer of charms
I am past the white cliffs of Pangbourne
Whose tangs of rich history have passed.

High speed train, high speed train we must praise thee
As we chunter past pylons and court
Uncommon sights of two dogs on smooth green
We barge current canals with light thoughts.

Tilehurst sings Henley praises through ad libbed tiles
Though it teems the wide Thames for glistering miles
Tracks wind then conjoin with smiling turned wiles
Reading ahead the amassed siloed piles.

I am siding with pylons that flank the great seer
They may be vernacular but at least they are here
This box grey with hope will dash scree within
That wears down washed dreams that never begin.

Twyford in twilight pits purple on green
But here in the morning, twirls pillars through leaves
I tunnel through thoughts of a Knight and fair Maiden
Head off the grey brown with Industrialization.

Dear maiden, dear maiden, oh where can you be?
Past Buddleia banks and sidings of green.
Your great swathes of bodies suggesting affray
Please think of me kindly as they turn you away.

No silvering surface, no cool white repose;
The Burnham heat as steady she goes
The points of pure ego that stare down through slough
The jostle of tube life will soon be enough.

Desolate tomatoes and non Bon Iver
Silo-steeped sidings share green sleek fixed care
Let stations upon stations be left far behind
Our mind sets to trading bear hopes to unwind...

Dealings kill Feelings kill Gossamer lines.