On a drive, I see cut a
high crescent anchor of the sky –
the streetlights leave their trails.
She moon appears and dissappears
behind a bus. Behind buildings.
But constant as force, strong
as day and night. She wyrds
into the middle of all skies.
And this is comfort and terror,
as she draws away and away
aeons shrink and we vanish. The end
of things and fate, the end.
But always the moon in the growing dark.
Always. Respect of existence for rock.
The dog shakes and I wait for my drink
and ice cubes float above the glass.
Poems drip from me slowly as cold pitch.
The world changes.
We talked for a while and then
I breathed you in, by accident
and like an insect you got lodged
in my throat – I had to swallow
repeatedly to even take stock
of the situation – how your oil
black hair was limp in the heat
and its one colour rainbow sheen
of sun coated me with a sweat.
I digested your little carapace
and now I twitch like a dry
and dying wasp in the porch…
Frankly, my dear, I would most love
to sting you but I am waxy –
look what you’ve brought us to
with your callow disregard
of how you fill the air, and land
in droves on my shirt – cracked
and uneven paving stones are no
solace – get off me, get off, get off.
The deep-house beats fall
From the window – hit
sunbeams combing the heat
Fall down simmering streets
It’s royal wedding day – but I
Can only focus on this
bunch of dead flowers
Strapped to a lamp-post
The cellophane wrap flutters
Around the dry remnants
Framed by estates and hills
And glints from windscreens
I’m not saying something,
Shocked by the light’s irradiacy
The faintly dissonant organ
Of which echoes softly pour
Gracious sun who flies
and light itself
Generous sun, who
with patient defence
has mechanised us
from the infinites
with infinite patience
Great sun here is my appeal;
It is not enough that you should set
do not be so humble
Shine all day and beyond –
erase the night so I may
awake and fall sleeping
to your light through
the thick blinds in soft covers
in living blankets
of sublime furriness
These warm nights
which feel so odd, knowing
you are close
the air rings with tension
while the bins are emptied
what rhythmic trundling
Giant sun, simply ride the horizon
like a carousel
bucking up and down
on the plastic horse of the hills
Your twilight is gold
I purchase lightness with
Oh gracious sun
You walk down the unnoticeable incline into
the city. You look to the skies where the weather
systems rehearse a performance they will give you
next time. You see the bowl of the heavens reflect
the skull’s roundness – and all car sounds in its
persistence. You love this. It is, you think, the mark
of a walk’s greatness to array contingency
in its random archways you sigh. And walk on through
the headache as the white grey blues yellow
say I, are you
to such a situation
like falling into the sun
is bound to a mild burn
on the fingertip.
I am inextricably bound
to this bed. They tried
to pull me off it earlier
trust me. The universe almost ended.
I pointed out that concrete
didn’t require such
particular force to break.
They insisted on an atom bomb
which was inextricably
bound to fear being fired.
So I inextricably bounded
up and stood on necessity
bounding up and down on it
like a broken trampoline.
Music flattens all nuance
in the word-play – or draws out
meaning in simple rhythm.
Each step of the insect foot
on the dry grass blade is void
and thoughts collapse – ancient stars
you hand me your cold beer and
confused, I count syllables
on my fingers instead of
offering up applause – flat
claps to reward the groove, gone
replaced by a strange avant-garde
thanks. I hand you back your cup.
Galaxies spark on your cheek.