POET • PERFORMER • MUSICIAN

The Giant

The Giant was high as a wild pine

The Giant was high as a wild pine

He thought: this must be the world I’m seeing

The sun was like light through lager

And after all, he thought, I’m a mythical being

 

The giant looked wide across the hedged fields

The hawthorns looked highlighted with a fat yellow pen

They sat against the sky like spicy autumn

And he was like a boy with a ball again

 

The giant waded through the brick and glass city

He was on the news, but he didn’t care

Neon flashed and the streets were black with rain

But what he remembered was the throb of the fair

 

The giant sat by the sea, It emptied and overflowed his mind

hearing the push and suck and break

He wanted to move, but not yet:

He was caught by the endless give and take

 

The giant climbed a mountain with a single step

His head was in the ionosphere

He could see the earth bend like a sheer cliff edge

So it’s got an end, he thought- is this fear?

 

The giant’s religion was naivety

‘The thing ’, he said. ‘ is to smell the grass fresh

I’ve been looking everywhere for what I once felt

But now I’ve got bigger the world seems less’

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