Openings into spirals of
other words that
arbitrary bit of
land between the fertile
ground and the furrows
on my brow or
Rustling away at dry papers
a series of dates from distant
cultures whose contact is
cuisine numbers 38 and 73 a
Sequence of
points across the
terrain soft
pedestrians flying
off the bumper
sniffing the evening air for
cat within corridors that
link lifeworlds I cannot
imagine and the rain
falls and the dew drops until
Flat and running free a
loose cannon of the past
the jagged pile of stones
small pieces of soil
without integrity
roll into the revealed centre a
stone trough for water or
grinding maize and out from that the
circles and then on top of that and
leading out into the Western world
There is evidence of giant activity three
toed footprints stone banks brushed aside and
banners strung in parallels as a
guide for those that cannot see the ground
And what is it exactly and alert
as a bird with its head to one side the flexible
framework of its skeleton is a guide
the structures like the language of
defence around the garden and in
the garden and in my heart I tend the
little plants that might one day feed the word
Each object a world
its mollecular resistance to
becoming spread its
consistency according to its usage
across the aeons
and the continents the
desiccated bodies or those that
in the acid soil leave only a
trace of carbon or
An object repeatedly used and in
which the shape of another so
impressed is incomplete without
their hand attached and those I
crate up and ship out an unspoken
virus of an idea slams shut
Approaching certainty the idea turns turtle I
poke its exposed underbelly and that
which seemed a protective shell in
which to hide I can only wallow
I had the sights turned on the black hole
to my left or otherwise I would have
held my course like glue
small insects seeking shelter wriggle from
beneath the shell and from where that may be
Summer Poem
1.
lilies dead lights flicker each eye moment
or a moonlit sea in time the split
oak at the tectonic base shuffles
an anthology of clinging vines
2.
a breeze
a mansion with many scented rooms
missing the stream by a whisker
the chance relationship with speech
an order of french
thrown away in the morning
3.
chips off the old block
4.
the perceived disadvantages
of the recent past documented to the last detail
a fine edge to the first word and then the last and then the one before
fools - diving in the same place over and over
the wreck shifting on the sand and in the tidal race the
molluscs grabbing
5.
(you writes with your heart or you leaves well alone network of veins surfacing
families of mixed blood breaking against widely spaced rocks received wisdom
spreading in dark pools a train of thought with so many carriages and many
passengers blind rattling in the wind
6.
spending time
by the pressure of its own weight
one cactus one sick almond anis
bruised underfoot
rice wine horse cheese
geological fruit
crossing and re-crossing the
road from the
centres of production to those
of consumption
breathing out and in across
the city clear bright skin fenced in the things
that never get known soft rolls of
flesh in the pantiles
of my mind and buying the bits and pieces
and spreading them around crouching
against the sun lightening
touching ground
rearranging
after straight time the
penny drops
the underlying form
a collection of points each
lot collecting as a run of water
dried out river beds mixing mud
and blood emptying out the gene pool
the bats come in to land
in the coming dawn the
foul waste of the night tall trees
feathering out dear father the
basis of a discipline, distraction
having dreamed of this
the still quiet conscience in the
back of the mountains no
allowances
have to be made
balancing
the inside with the out the
river and its bed each
endlessly changing
each irritating particle
7.
mispronounced places on a map
a mouth failing in the turns
bombing the fault lines
as a position from which all
others could open up piles
of discarded ideas a hill
of beans mined and quarried
panned brought to the
surface for inspection
8.
the march of terror
across the overhang
practising low flying
more adagio than arpeggio certain subterranean rapid moments
lean and brown slivers of broken glass
small pieces of fuselage
propellers devices
for changing direction
9.
natural as water recording its passing the eye to the view rocks projecting beneath an
overhang unwilling short trails of destruction leading nowhere the iron discipline of form
each disturbance of the sea bed a shoal of fish
10 .
the dying room
abasement garden
his surroundings became him
five blue doors
extending into the air or
the sound of running water
invasion and collection
across the front end
a body of knowledge
eye permanently blinking
horse shit
1.
message arrested it sticks in my mind certain facilities loose
new provision drops steal the parachute silk go
jet ski unpack the pallet life with oil many years without
joss stick smoke in still night against a list of names against the cover
warm certainty of irresistible genetics a newspaper rustles at the appointed hour
a radio clicks on no one picking up
drowning in troubled water his sorrows floating to the surface
we met and talked
he misinterpreted
my body language
an exotic background
is no guide to future performance
he arranged the streets in imitation
he pulled a lever a sign which said stop
an issue of stylistics
rearranging the barriers at the door
the steel cage slowly descending
a range of different holds simulating pain
in the clover fields
a river slowly winds its way across the meadow
his straining fingers for the touch ach
flawed against the deck there are
those whose faces turn up to the sun and
others he stripped the mask
those in the cage and those outside the cage
how much am I located here and what
part of my head is in some place else
the turn slowly
not ... but
2.
left on the self I sit and think
so many words on the hit list
when the armour comes down
the who clerk who know all now
think shut up think you can too
3.
o spherical moon star music a good
liver sucks your integrity
your gravitational forces
branches that clearly need
trimming - sinister alleys I know
being out of control and spiraling downwards
or the decencies across her bed of descendancies
between the children and twitching their starry eyes
and the sinister alley of horse shit
|
|
gas station old macdonalds
Something of the self pulling her down the street her fingers
wrapped in his a few hawthorn with wisps of wool clinging
and I feel so anxious that this might stop I don't describe
the sloe berries.
And this was a place at the head of the lake or just beyond
a vantage point the lives they lived without sustaining words but
rather stepping out on any morning rain or shine there are
always reasons to move.
What are they?
This grove is wild with underwood and broken up and thin
and king cups. There's but oh but for old is as. There's
no old and for and where a. there's what and her. I cannot
escape the deep curve of such loss I would believe I came
among these hills (Ginsberg 1966). Haunted like a rock the
folded umbrella was nothing other than the thin Madonna
I come to worship nature people fuck me off. I make the heart
that loved her bounded within his chest weak as a lamb
foaming like a cataract spring beneath a hill trembling still. Aw
Hank you got me now, I take an idea or the crumb of it and
cast it upon the water of everything I know. A fish emerges,
eats the idea. That's not what I meant at all I'm not sure how it
came out like that.If there is a normal line then this is it - one
or two free associated chemicals drink for those who don't like
drink. Better to go down with the ship intact than let the
Barbarians aboard. And when someone stands up and says I
don't understand thinking they talk for all the little people who
don't understand I think go and read some fucking books or
look it up when you get home
Part Two
The air went warm to cold then warm again and in the distance&
lightning flashed it danced across the metal chains. The&
torrential rain filled my mouth and then in spouts it ran across
my face the laurels bent beneath its weight these things no
more their opposite raindrops the size of marbles the time the
world could tilt across the curves the sun just cleared the ridge.
English is the language of love whispering across the border
endlessly finding voice.
That's country for you a place of opposition I sink beneath
scum rising I wash my face. There is no end to it or rather the ;
spend is all too soon. Hedgerows ripped away before my eyes
another bonus for the plough the brew a wasteful place of little ;
yield, hard to turn and slow to grow. Where small animals
scutter, where mapping merely means the big guns wear
wellingtons. The sink is now a trough the bed head a hurdle
the compost heap a warm place for slow worms.
Being contrary he accumulated companies with no final
analysis no real growth potential no obvious market no track
precord. He took the science out of financial speculation and
preplaced it with juxtaposition.
|
**************************************************
A Chide's Alphabet | Second Chiding | Third Chiding | Fourth Chiding | Fifth Chiding | Sixth Chiding |