I met a man in London
Poetry was his game
He tapped frantically with his fingers
Not after fortune or fame.
His sign it spelt out clearly
‘Just pay me as you feel’
I’ll reveal just what I see
You cough up – that’s the deal!
He set fingers into motion
On his ‘Lattera 32’
Then unravelled the piece of paper
And said “here I hope this will do!”
Today it seems so poignant
To look back and to read
We were not too long from lockdown
And this man had sown a seed.
As I read the poem in earnest
Thinking coincidence or fluke
I parted with a sizeable note
And noticed his name was Luke.
His poem went something like this:
“New Directions.
Which is to say,
no cardinal point, no possible turn on
the grid of three dimensions, no way the wind blows
but a twist into some entirely new and previously
unimagined space, so that we arrive, gasping
and enchanted on the Impossible Shore
electric air
and the light of a more perfect sun.
This is how discoveries are made…
by making the new path,
what cannot be conceived of
until it is done”
by Luke Davis - 2021
This was a chance encounter to say the least.
I’m Luke
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