Manifold murmurs occur
In the backyards of the facades
That we take to be real and to be everything
Grasping the surface but not its hinterlands
Its vast spaces tucked away like mountains in the fog
Not needing to hide because they are unseen anyway
Landscapes that long linger
In the wind and in mind and the imagination
In the land, the country at large, a constellation of places
Are not as common as we think
For they may be isolated from a place called ‘elsewhere’
Landscapes that do not escape but stay
So we do not get lost all the way but only a little bit
May only survive in disconnected, distorted form
With their leftovers buried in ruins and pieces
Lost-scapes then, are the landscapes we cannot remember
Or those we have to give up, escape from
Though the land itself, if it could speak
Might urge us to stay, at least from time to time
Especially from one time to another
So we can look elsewhere in the meantime
Not to be confined but to move within the landscape
As far as it can take us
Landflight, then, making lostscapes from landscapes
Drowned worlds endangering memories of migraton
We are all migrants, but we forgot all about it
Considering borders rather than memories
As measurements, dividing lines, imaginary walls
Failing to find forms that would
Accommodate a way of thinking
That does not stop at the horizon
Landscapes no longer
Held within consciousness, no
Longer heard of, listened to or understood
Explanations are needed now, as to how
We have grown apart, where
One-ness is at best beyond belief for all involved
In an inverted way, with regard to all of us
And in relation to each other
We are too used to being strangers now. © Ursula Troche, 4.17
Author Bio:
Ursula Troche is a poet and artist who has lived and worked most of her life in London, England, and before London there was Germany and after there is (now) the north-west of England: the seaside by Cumbria - facing Ireland, thereafter America. She has appeared in various magazines and some of her poetry is inspired by Illinois, where she stayed in 2012.
In the backyards of the facades
That we take to be real and to be everything
Grasping the surface but not its hinterlands
Its vast spaces tucked away like mountains in the fog
Not needing to hide because they are unseen anyway
Landscapes that long linger
In the wind and in mind and the imagination
In the land, the country at large, a constellation of places
Are not as common as we think
For they may be isolated from a place called ‘elsewhere’
Landscapes that do not escape but stay
So we do not get lost all the way but only a little bit
May only survive in disconnected, distorted form
With their leftovers buried in ruins and pieces
Lost-scapes then, are the landscapes we cannot remember
Or those we have to give up, escape from
Though the land itself, if it could speak
Might urge us to stay, at least from time to time
Especially from one time to another
So we can look elsewhere in the meantime
Not to be confined but to move within the landscape
As far as it can take us
Landflight, then, making lostscapes from landscapes
Drowned worlds endangering memories of migraton
We are all migrants, but we forgot all about it
Considering borders rather than memories
As measurements, dividing lines, imaginary walls
Failing to find forms that would
Accommodate a way of thinking
That does not stop at the horizon
Landscapes no longer
Held within consciousness, no
Longer heard of, listened to or understood
Explanations are needed now, as to how
We have grown apart, where
One-ness is at best beyond belief for all involved
In an inverted way, with regard to all of us
And in relation to each other
We are too used to being strangers now. © Ursula Troche, 4.17
Author Bio:
Ursula Troche is a poet and artist who has lived and worked most of her life in London, England, and before London there was Germany and after there is (now) the north-west of England: the seaside by Cumbria - facing Ireland, thereafter America. She has appeared in various magazines and some of her poetry is inspired by Illinois, where she stayed in 2012.
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