2384
7.191
11.vii.26
an
undetermined sky
ekphrastic
for Jane Sutherland’s 1893 ‘after autumn rains’
rough limbs of nothing quite to shape
as if in gilt to crack with time
finally the place as altered
not much here to read
just as it is – grazed and the cattle gone
weed risen from the unseen dung
unpeopled for a present purpose
just another little forever
one doubts that it will last
2383
7.190
10.vii.26
slap
up
ekphrastic
for Tony Tuckson’s 1070-73 ‘White Lines (vertical) on ultramarine
a lazy kind of depth, just there
and more than at arm’s length
what else shows through?
one might make all kinds of claims
you see as far as
the action of gravity
some kind of splashdown
it mocks
we all mock back
this is some kind of forest for free
straight out of the tin
in which I imagine
hapless insect sinking
2382
7.189
9.vii.26
there
isn’t really a name for this
ekphrastic
for Ann Thomson’s 1983 ‘Pentaplain’
see a green field
moon gone under
drip fed rich once where the shovel
rain crosses it
all directions this
kept in a box for the mind to expand
there’s something built by accident
uninhabited calm
fuse lit
scaffold shape
the dark come round
road like a grief run through
a best analogy
the sky so patched to always fall
I think it almost means
2381
7.188
8.vii.26
Banksy
a
spray and scurry off
what more risk than a question?
you’ll need a mask
one’s thrown under
so hold a pose in cloud floss
soft toys of Dismaland and grubby
the incoherent howl
a mountain is made of weapons
there’s nothing can’t be defaced
with gangsta rats no ball games
toss up
splash for the sea
keep the day anonymous
it’s over the wire
it’s over to you
to mount a rescue
raise a beaker to
here’s a halo of paint
anonymous transparent
it’s this much self belief
a cardboard town’s cut out of your head
applause for war is a sign
of extreme value
commodified for the joke
consumer Jesus gone shopping
there’s nothing that can’t be made sacred
a bomb clutch trolley hunt
where nakedness plays mouse
the worst just keeps coming
gesture is art
all of this collectible
the middle finger too
just a few drops of lighter fluid
now all the world is lit
we are the monkeys in charge
2380
7.187
7.vii.26
catching breath
Gore Cove Track Series
takes
such a net
it’s
in your chest, beat beside
a
traipse
and
here’s a tide like day rust
sun
say
sneak
up with a voice behind
take
steps
so’s
to be gone
2379
7.186
6.vii.26
stand back
Gore Cove Track Series
winter,
make midst
sparkle
up, harbour
stone
carved by this breeze from all days before
tide’s
in, a stone adopts its tree
like
lichen the stain come winter dry
my
listening in the run of streams
whipbird’s
time and tune
the
place is our custodian
track
is catching up with me
all
this to live up to
such
precious light this is
2378
7.185
5.vii.26
it’s
only ever in the mirror
eyes of one’s own light
those who are gone
it’s only in mirror
the well of time lies flat, upstanding
see where you’re from, their faces
see the corridors of menace
you can almost hear
account for a crash
the trouble, dust up
same old chimney fits
the leaflessness
a craggy loft of
it’s only in the mirror
infinite regression
it’s every glance for reminiscence
duck then you’ll have to imagine
world still there
waffily yet
the cri de
coeur wake up
and dare you
double dare you
it’s only ever in the mirror
we see who’s behind it all
