the book of me is found
inside a bookless room
within a bookless house
reading breath by breath
what can and can’t be said
pupil to the iris silence
enscribing every moment
recorder of presence
that special collection
hardly ever read
upon which all rests
but never can be leant

A. H (late August 2020 & 25th February 2021)

I have written some poems in recent months that I’ve not shared – going back over (as mostly they were half done things) I’ve had a go at this one, again from a workshop to start with. I like this idea of maybe the most important book not being a book at all in a sense, one we read and write momnent by moment, not unlike the idea of the Ayurvedic Record,