28 Jul 2022
After Mark Strand’s
Hesitating, stumbling occasionally
step after step, heel-toe rhythm
but never stopping for long. The way
that feels right to me angles upward.
Beyond each curve, a warning
or a pulse. I never know the time
the closer I am to sky. Daylight
to dim light, a call in the distance
is simply voice, I don’t hear the words.
Shapes at the roadside ever less distinct
now I am night walking again.
Behind the poem...
During a workshop with writer Stuart Ross, we were asked to ‘write between the lines’ of another writer’s poem. The source poem was to be double-spaced (serving as ‘scaffolding’) and we were either to continue or respond to each line in the blank spaces beneath the original lines. I chose Mark Strand’s The Hill, as I was inspired by the feeling of motion he evokes. What you see here is my revision of the draft left behind when the scaffolding was removed – every care taken to honour the feel of Strand’s poem.