A visit to Dartmoor and a chance to take my time, revisiting some past spaces in better weather. Dartmoor is a place I love to visit. Quiet open places, rivers, old places that have no context except the meanings we read into them ourselves, the ideas they strike in our own minds.
Work from my trip to Dartmoor.
Going back to old words, older than any I have spoken,
old enough to have never been written.
Lines and circles, single statements
marking the landscape that has become
devoid of the trees that made it what it was.
Bridges, across water, across ideas of places
and leading to other words left behind
of such density we can’t carry them
with us in our pocket as we do now.
Words so important we set them in stone.