I missed this by an hour recently on a poetry pilgrimage to London.
There is a printed, written poem, plus a voice plus musical performance. I can't find a complete recording or video of that. Short portions of the audio are available.
Blog piece on the whole poem.
Link with 2 short audios.
Hearing what I can of it makes me realise how I have taken in the cold, sea smashed nature of our life here in the north of Europe. The wind, rain, gales, shipping forecasts, fear for those in heaving ferries... the whole horror of the sea. Yet my intense longing to be near it, to smell the air, have the salty skin which comes from spending days sailing. Those rocks and pebbles, cold sand, little patterns we make in the sand to channel the water down via our own little river way to the edge of the beach. The endless destruction and shifting from the waves. Wonderful and fearsome, unalterable, terrifying.
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