The poem I’m going to read is ‘Blandeur’. Blandeur’s a made-up word, I couldn’t find the proper word in English to suggest this condition of sensory relief, edging on sensory deprivation, that I frequently yearn for.
Blandeur
If it please God,
let less happen.
Even out Earth’s
rondure, flatten
Eiger, blanden
the Grand Canyon.
Make valleys
slightly higher,
widen fissures
to arable land,
remand your
terrible glaciers
and silence
their calving,
halving or doubling
all geographical features
toward the mean.
Unlean against our hearts.
Withdraw your grandeur
from these parts.
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