Friday, February 26, 2010

tuning in to Radio Silence

at night you see the hands
rise from the heather

somewhere around here let's find out
follow the sounds of water underground there is a shape
that comes over us towards midnight

the radio starts up far off we want to run

keep digging here someone says

here is where they last saw themselves
here where the shape

put your ear to the damp ground you hear
chambers open out into worlds of wetness

under the gurgle of dream tiny voices
we are on a hillside when the dawn crawls in amongst us

we have found nothing we insist
nothing here in the night

in the night these are hands reaching from the moor
no one can hold all of these hands
each of us leaves with loss with the loss
of all hands

having at last excavated nothing


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