Sunset at Rudds, Lulworth Cove

I have tried everything but nothing works
Like this: I sit by the pool

By the sea—it is cool here—and I grab
My pen to jot some comforting

Nonsense to get into myself, with no plan
For what comes next, only knowing

That it will be me: I will not have to try
Too hard, not for verses or their quality,

But for feeling, grounding—and sounding good
Within myself. But why does only my pen settle me?

Should I not be enjoying the water? The birds?
I never remember any of their names… and unwritten

I barely remember myself either. Alone here, I am—just inking
And stinking of failure: the surfers

Even stare. But they aren’t wearing any shoes either!
Though I can ignore them for now

And write, knowing I’m not as bright
As I’d like to think: there’s a fly

In my cocktail: I escape—once more—in drink.
And I’m swimming out here again, aren’t I—

Though not out there? I only dive
With my pen (I’m typing: I still lie) and remain stupid

And silly enough to squeeze
Another half in

At the end—for fun—to settle
And buoy me up;

To keep my head above water.

(A version of this poem was first published in my pamphlet L’etoile, October 2024. Redacted copy available here: https://ashleydunn.co.uk/letoile-redacted/)

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