Thursday, November 21, 2013

the difficult bell that wyndes across the mill yard at hometime in the shifts

wayward Buddha who drifts lonely in the illustrious mist
Buddha three foot off the floor
we are not envious
neither that otherbuddha who walks over rivers
it's nothing that gravity can't fix

and all our songs in disarray
even there in the flower tides
what is it, campion? the bellflower, the germander speedwell?
down at this Wycoller they care for aisles
do you feel such longing
Buddha of the far night?
with your missiles in tact
and who knows now the junction
of tactile and tact?

she will not answer
but that was always unexpected

it's nothing that a brisk walk down the ginnels

(to the mill by the river by the fields of sabotage
our clogs upon the cast iron are not smelted
and oh such oxygen)

not you again

(it is reported that 21.5 people were killed earlier today in a suicide attack
in Jerusalem. it is reported but unconfirmed that God was amongst the many injured.
my disbelief has left a hole in the sky
through which a stain tinges)

nothing. nothing. not any more.
only the wynde and the slow/fast creep
where the water used to be

you with your brightness
your unexpected tightness
I was once a wild hedgehog
what lived live there in ditches
such things we have now
whiteness of bristle and bone
lightness even, scarce, unknown
all now agog
clouda moona thickets of the far
no one ever

Sunday, November 17, 2013

why won't you rhyme?
it's high time!

Saturday, November 16, 2013

extraordinary measures in the sloop

and such clothes
maybe you think
look now
it is almost midnight
and all your cutlery jumping
like wild bells
I am a thing with a hood
you are the rattle
at the end of the world
as the rivers spill
as the horses slowly topple
but look again
for we are all of kindness here, now
it's time to stroke and collide
time to breathe
this is not yet the future
where we will be asked
it is just that moment
when we need to know
that hey
sink soft
no one will kill you tonight

it's a rare thing
whatever you got

down deep again, where they don't ask
the wildfires
sleep soft, all of you
there are fireworks over the hills
and we heed them not
not tonight
sleep all my wide babies of snowy places
we are only ill with love
soft as the touch of faraway
and your whole heart snuffed yes
oh just watch, listen
we are saying yes

(what could Minkowski meant?)
(Oh be are baby tonight)
like a dream and snuffle it comes ever on
oh stop it she says stop it
this moment yes this moment
is all there will ever so