The rain sets a gradient on greens
Old lithograph fade, with yellows
Flickering, charring them, peeling
As if cloud, slate dark depressed
Is absent mindedly flicking through filters.
But there is a joy to this substance
A chunky soup for the steaming
For the hungry, who evaporate within
Its vacuum of feeling.
Only at twilight, such a light.
After, the streetlamps pale as soggy
Worm corpses, settle on the streets.
I miss the phosphor orange glow
Of the days when I was younger.
Today, I miss it. Maybe not tomorrow.
Pylons grew out of the flesh of the land
Iron bones of blood-rust thrust through
scaffolds to hold up the cloudsky – how
The rocks were insufficient now
Heaven has grown heavier and heavier,
only metal and electrics can halt it
since it dropped off hurtling downward
toward the cold earth’s blank plates.
A calcinated cliff towers over the wood
Riddled with caverns and within those
caverns, we find more caverns, the walls
Are made of caverns and the floors
Well, little difference there with an abyss
If I’m honest. The clouds dragging
themselves over the earth set up
A tone, with a little liquid and a vibration
Which gets the lightwaves shivering
And humming, with all the depth of oceans
And it blasts through into the very skeleton
Of the plateau, into the brain of the earth
Blasts it right up until the moment when
It almost shivers apart. Then waterfalls
Fall, crash down along the paths of thought
Filling it all up slowly with a mercurial
Liquid, the liquid of worth. It brims
brims with all of value, even the chasms
Blackness seems somehow fuller.
And that’s music.
We watch as it happens;
The glint descends, glistening.
It flutters and curls before landing
With a flitter just beyond hearing
Around her eyes, nesting in wrinkles
Burrowing deeper, I soon see it looking
Out at me, and we smile. And I know
From now on, what she wants of me.
Still night, dark night, night
To tempt the stars to a long flight
Or to give it up and fall, crash
To earth or ocean, falcon fast
Fitting snugly into the mineral
Dance and swirl of all nocturnal
Dust, but the air is still and thick
It waits, quietly, rainless in
The fug that stillens everything.
Need I remind you
that I am not the land I live on
I am not the owner
Nor am I the hill over the moor
If you keep on associating me with them
In this cramped cage of a name
I might explode
It’s already bad enough
That we share so much
We all have our own perfectly good names
and even they push it.
The sun my angel rise on an autumn morning
This is the allegory. Seemingly unchanged
A sea of dark grey shades, an orange tint
This first morning mourning, the light of a firefly
Suspended on that sad height the sun, glows
The word glows with a sad inability to match
Who has set the atmosphere on fire?
I fear the dark fire of the winter which,
I fear all seasonal signs and portents
Be it leaves on the floor, a frozen sheet
I see possibilities arrayed
like a great flagstone path
and each flagstone has moss
and plants grow inbetween
And each flagstone is carved
from stone milled from language
the language of books and films
they are stacked about the path
And the rain and wind-grit
are giving them a hard time
so the titles have ripped off
or faded in the sun – the path
(this may be important)
only appears retroactively
that is – I can only see it
looking over my shoulder.
The path in front of me
looks clean and I am walking
but I don’t mean to be walking
through a mist from the waterfall
Drawing up crabs out
Of vast black swimming
Depths – I killed limpets
With a borrowed knife
I stuck the hook through
And my conscience
Twitched with the piercing –
Unknown primal guts
Dripped onto fingers
I dropped the line quick
And after minutes
Of my stunned-keen gaze
I brought them up – they
Faded from the rift,
Scrabbled bright plastic
Murk green crabs, my brothers
The adults taught me
How quick to catch them
I deep-stared at them
With them, swam the pool
A fear taken hold.
I threw them back in.
This poem is so short
I can’t say anything
You’d disagree with
It is so easy to read
You won’t really read it
If only it were longer
But oh what’s this