IDYLL
got woken up this
morning
Sun streaming in
massive chattering
outside my
window
birds
thronging, nesting all
over the farm, thank God!
not
machine-guns

IDYLL
got woken up this
morning
Sun streaming in
massive chattering
outside my
window
birds
thronging, nesting all
over the farm, thank God!
not
machine-guns

BREAK
so much fragility
things collapsing
falling apart
nothing as fragile
as a poem,
however
even
the lines
break

EVERYWHERE
I turn into
a statue
I pop up everywhere.
Timebound, my punctuality
is whenever
you least expect me.
I converse with vipers;
chat to elapids
see me in a debate here
with file snake, puffadder
and cobra
no time for niceties of argument
these guys,
low on rhetorical nuance
on tactical subtlety
jump right to their conclusion
flying in the face of counter-
premise
or inconvenient fact
and yet, something in me
herpetological too,
in awe of their
sublime
beauty
agog
at their wisdom
shedding
my skin.
COME
come
let me
show you darkness
what we have here
what you have
here
is
blindness
not
the same
thing at all
SWAN SONG
was singing the multiverse
thinking of travelling under
an alien ocean
in Nemo’s submarine
light years from our home planet
travelling metres deep
twenty thousand leagues
under that sea
the pressure getting to me
rivets popping
no one
able to make sense of my
song
as it rises from alien
depths to cultivated surface
finding the ears
of beings like me except
they have
neither space, nor time
for outlandish things
IF
if I could embrace you
hold you
in my arms
love you
inside and out
all through
the night
your body so warm
so close
up
against me
and me so
deep now
so tight
you are
so wet
as well
THINK THAT i CAN THINK
i am body
without consciousness
I am consciousness
body free
wondering how,
if I am just a deteriorating
copy of a photocopy
I can
make love to you
think that i can think
almost philosophically
WHITE
Yellow custard
red jelly
black cat
white phosphorous
what is the colour
of horrible death?
RIPPLE
I wondered if
you
were Ocean
your soul
Ocean
had to know
was
so unsure
so dipped in my toe
licked
my finger
felt your ripples
as they touched me
ripple effect
so sure in you
AJAR
listening to progressive jazz (Ian Carr’s Nucleus
with Chris Spedding
on guitar)
same time ploughing through Joyce’s Ulysses
say ploughing but sometimes
one is surfing there
on a glorious wave, following the sweeping tide
nothing I can think of
could exceed this configuration
in respect of
artistic complexity, cerebral
integrity
unless
twin philosophers of the body politic
were
(becoming Maenad, going full Dionysian)
to pop in
for a spot of ménage a trois
or
no less exquisite
the
jam session
to end all jazz
jam sessions
in case
they coming left the door ajar