#1844 - unblear

 

1844

6.17

17.i.25

unblear

for in early light

 

beanful

up leapt

into

 

lit then

touching

all by eye

 

you crowds I am

now lost gone

 

from wordless where

talk ourselves up

out into

 

the all before

imagined

have to call it

a day

#1843 - tickle you under there

1843

6.16

16.i.25

tickle you under there

for the dream book

 

you can do things in a dream

won’t work anywhere else

 

speak with the gone

show and tell

 

you’re in another language

blear and far from likely

 

yet all along

lie still

 

bleed and you wouldn’t know it

time travel too

 

though everything’s slower than light

feels as if an obligation

 

you could be devil and care

it’s unclear there even is a story

 

day waits

a rhyme’s all night to come

 

at a picnic with the bears

around and round

 

must be a tree

find other lost ones

 

just as touch

the ages for wisdom

 

well over by this

no questions asked

 

you’re diving from a great height

into shallow water

 

you’re not at home

when you’re here

#1842 - rock bottom

 

1842

6.15

15.i.25

rock bottom

written while falling  

for Tchaikovsky’s ‘Serenade Melancolique’ in B flat minor

 

think of him on his deathbed

worrying about what some critic said

so long, so long ago

 

 

sad to be oneself sometimes

even top of the tree

 

for each an underworld

strung to tug

 

net sticks

tender too

 

still eyes hope up

 

a quip, a quibble

feeling fellow

 

lift even when

just where we go again

pitch a fever then

 

a certain phrase says

meadow bright

 

then shade across the stream

then night

 

eyes wide

is all we are

 

poor heart

so much gave out 

#1841 - clock is a stone

 

1841

6.14

14.i.25

clock is a stone

notes for the clock series

 

clock is a stone

for the tomb of time

on it hours days months are written

they go to empty air

 

clock’s bottle spun

is pointed bone

 

runs out of puff

dust furs it

 

you’d think a sky filled

with all has been said

 

its down is round

its round is up

 

might dream that the mail arrives

wake bitten

 

it is of griefs laid round

 

a river runs into my head

 

clock harbinges

here is time arrives

 

take tendril to our dark

 

leaf as in the sunbeam stood

in stillness, still yet falling

 

clock is a stone

for the tomb of time

 

reaching as all forest is

and every way at once

 

#1840 - the dark inside

 

1840

6.13

13.i.25

the dark inside

 

all self they say

 

then who is seeing out?

 

the world as far

as wide as we

 

where time’s the broken wheel

 

it’s everyone in flight

 

words return

 

blood drawn like a sword

 

we wake to words

we conjure light

for a song

first thing

 

they say all sorts

 

it’s all the grim unseemly am

 

toes tip up

 

it’s all our sideways dreamsight

 

the dark we do

the stain

 

I was there so often much

ache of my own

just say

 

dark woods

and half way home

 

#1839 - can the day be fire?

1839

6.12

12.i.25

can the day be fire?

poem for LA

 

if once when green grew all around

trees held high

and here’s the sea

 

then can the day be fire?

 

an always opening

summer say

shade and dapple

breeze to sweet

or any season on

 

under dark, delving

tendril too

 

and mind was where?

round round a star

 

sky is always coming

this is what we spin for

 

it’s just this blue dot

me and you

 

then can the day be fire?

 

cadaver dogs search through for

wreck of dreams

can they be gone?

 

then there’s our argument with the weather

dream devils you can blame

we’re here

 

‘when the time comes’

that’s what the radio says

 

can fire be all the day that is?

 

can day still stand

where trees held high

and here’s the sea beside

 

how all the humming burb was home

 

this sky is coming for us

 

as easily the flame grows up

we conjured this, you know

 

and smoke?

who’ll see it through?

 

ash after all?

will we?

 

here’s unwitting

and despite an ocean

 

all this to honour our sun