Tom Hirons

Writer, acupuncturist, wilderness rites of passage guide, storyteller, forest-roamer, stargazer, bread-baker (retired), poem-speaker and life-lover. Author of 'Sometimes a Wild God' Father of two unruly boys. Lives on the edge of Dartmoor in the UK. https://tomhirons.com

[smsomah]

Death. Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán, Mexico, 1979

[bearspeaks]

I want to do with language whatever cannot ever be done by AI, because that is where the real poetry lives.

Not all of you are going to agree with this. That’s OK by me. But, I’ve yet to see any good reason to change my stance, and I hope I never do.

And please don't send me AI-generated poetry in the style of Tom Hirons. I will block you faster than you can say ‘Endtimes.’

[bearspeaks]

MOLOK has arrived!

I also listed the e-book today, which is also a beautiful thing. If you'd like to read it, you can get hold of it super-cheap here.

Twenty-one poems for a time of devouring, What more could you want?

[henk-heijmans]

Chad the goat peers over a gate and is flanked by human hands, Chessington Zoo, Chessington, Greater London, 1970 - by Ronald Dumont, English

[bearspeaks]

I posted this as an insta story yesterday and it seemed to strike a chord, so here it is again. I’m loving seeing the outpouring of love and appreciation for Andrea’s life and work. We’re a weird bunch, poets. But, we touch people’s souls.

[bearspeaks]

CAN YOU HEAR THE THUNDER?

[bearspeaks]

One of the genuine good teachers and lifeforce-activists of our times is on the threshold. Her work, both written and via The Work that Reconnects, has had a huge influence on me at different times of my life. ‘World as Lover, World as Self’ spoke to me in profound ways in my more ascendant youth as a late-twenties seeker, and TWTR was the only thing that actually seemed to help sustain me through the edges of burnout and despair in the early twenty-teens when I was more (slightly more) involved with radical environmental activism.

I send prayers for a good dying and for her spirit's journey on, and for her people, who have gathered around her. And I can't help but be reminded of all those who are dying with no one to support them in their passing, and whose deaths are full of anguish and too soon, and I pray for them, too.

(Who do I pray to? A mystery beyond my comprehension that I have no name for and from which all matter and non-matter in the universe arises and returns to. But also to no one and nothing, simply as an act of reverence that might pulse along the subtle fibres of reality that connect all things, so that my own true song is sung.)

Thank you, Joanna Macy.

[bearspeaks]

[bearspeaks]

Everyone I talk to feels like everything’s at a fever-pitch of difficulty. If you feel that, you’re not alone. I can’t even write about it eloquently, though I’ve tried in MOLOK. I'll be listing it for pre-orders tomorrow. Stay tuned. But, this is just a howl of anguish and defiance. Despite all the madness, we’re doing our best. It’s not enough, but here we are. Sustain yourselves, ourselves, one another. Madness loves isolation. Group together and howl in the streets and at the sun. Don’t give up; don’t give in. Win or lose, keep your souls alive. *** I’m sorry my productivity has slumped while witnessing genocide I’m sorry that being enmeshed in cascading systems collapse has distracted me I’m sorry that all the horrors of empire and modernity continue to affect me I’m sorry that I’m going slowly mad as the vice of Everything pushes ever-tighter Sorry. Not-sorry. Persisting. For everyone wondering why everything feels harder.

[bearspeaks]

Today, I finished putting the last touches to MOLOK.

At this stage of the process, I hate almost all the poems, and the words all exist as an arbitrary jumble on the pages. None of the pieces is what I hoped it would be and I'd rather eat my own foot than put it out into the world. If you're an artist of any kind, this is possibly familiar. I think it's done. Yay. But, good-enough-for-now and safe-enough-to-try…

Anyway. Enough about the words. Here's the front cover mock-up, featuring fabulous artwork by Eska Marsh. There might be a few tweaks between here and publication, but we're basically there.

And, all self-centred writhing aside, I'm putting these poems out because to remain silent would require some kind of death of my soul. The book should be out in about three weeks. I hope - without optimism - that it becomes redundant by then.

[bearspeaks]

I’m in the I’M-IN-DANGER-OF-GOING-MAD stage of editing this collection now. The words are just drifting around in front of me and I hate almost all the poems. I want it to disappear without a trace, so that I can get on with the next book. Which probably means it’s almost done.

[bearspeaks]

This one’s for the second part of MOLOK. I’m still tinkering with it, to be honest. It’s hard to know what to write, and yet we do. I’m posting this simply in the hope that someone grappling in the thorns of it all gets some relief. Love to you all. There’s lots afoot.

[bearspeaks]

The forked lightning in our bones

One from a couple of mornings ago. Part of a sequence that's working me hard at the moment.

If you're intrigued, join Bear Mountain (free/monthly donation) and come along to the Feral Angels Poetry Café on Monday.

[bearspeaks]

Everything is urgent and everything's important. And if you don't stop sometimes, you will go mad. One hour in my hammock in the woods, five minutes from town. Heaven.

[womansart]

Gabriele Münter (1877-1962), German Expressionist painter who was at the forefront of the Munich avant-garde in the early 20th century

[bearspeaks]

Submissions for issue #5 of Clarion Poetry Quarterly - the magazine I edit - are open until May 8th. Get your poems in at https://clarionpoetry.com/submissions

[bearspeaks]

Clarion Poetry Quarterly is launching its fourth issue in May. Come and join us - many of the 30+ poets will be reading their work. It's free to attend.

Sign up here: https://clarionpoetry.com/events/