#2328 - dearly beloved

 

2328

7.135

16.v.26

dearly beloved

self-ekphrastic for an untitled work in MY FIRST FOREST OF WORDS

 

 

these are journey words rehearsed

 

for deeper woods to come

 

just one page

of the walk-in book

 

follow a smudge

just a scratch

something tears

into – is it a line? a shape?

is it a lie to tell?

 

brings to the place words become unbecome

 

somewhere the rain, so a hat

 

someone has to be alien landing

 

we’ve run out of excuse

 

a dayfold nothing settles

 

a nesting thing

funnel up

 

see where this all was thrown

 

you can count the dimensions

 

the dark is a door

 

these are voices of elsewhere

 

here’s depth to the page we fall in

 

to picture is to deface the real

 

will it sing?

 

that’s to pour forth, prank it

 

count and lose count

 

an arrow shapes the fire

 

can I have pictured all this nothing?

may I?   is it?

 

thing facing

happen to  

on the wall lain flat

 

anticipated in the

much call moment

 

it’s aphoristic

 

that’s a crouch to pounce

butterslip, join the dots

 

I am drawn to a work to finish

take my pencil to it  

 

because I was asked if I did

 

call it ‘Addled Scone Stroll’

call it ‘untitled’

 

go back and add a bit more

 

in the picnic woods

 

 come whichever way should take

 

and welcome

this is my country

you’re very welcome here

#2327 -- day as grey as

 

2327

7.134

15.v.26

day as grey as

ekphrastic for Margaret Breindel’s 1962 ‘The Chorus’

 

square slots

all hearts held in

 

sometimes arms fall by the side

 

death is a cloak and holding

 

there’s no ground to stand on

there’s nothing for the air

 

more eyes than wide

with what-for-horror

grime

 

you could not call survivors

 

there’s all of this singing for fear 

MY FIRST FOREST OF WORDS is up!

 

the hanging crew!   much thanks to whom!

#2326 -- the animal

 

2326

7.133

14.v.26

the animal

 

stays near the warm

where there is what can be eaten

 

that could be any

 

to the touch and so care

 

up to tricks

 

slink and cower growl

to pounce

 

made in the shade

and lick this

 

as one must

to get by

 

in for instance

light of day

 

case by case

mind of its own

 

knowing or not

 

the animal’s away 

 

 

#2235 -- mangrove moment

 

2325

7.132

13.v.26

mangrove moment

Gore Cove Track Series

 

 

hear the creek come

 

it’s somewhere between the hands of a clock

 

unscripted bridge

 

engine of a dog and splash

 

shallows and rill

 

a run over stone to smooth

 

place where the sun’s to mottle

 

the feather in a tree

 

harbour’s half here too

 

lean in

 

there’s all this reaching

 

roots as far in the mud as see up

 

footsteps that came our way now gone

 

blue of a day above 

#2324 -- inside out

 

2324

7.131

12.v.26

inside out

ekphrastic for Frank Hinder’s 1948 ‘Tram Kaleidoscope’

 

we are heads merely

pointed by wheel

 

are in windows

to look down

 

who will see the colours?

as from earth come

 

cut, the day to pieces

 

a precious little sun

 

we are turned to the street

birght lit, sharp, rounded

 

is it afternoon, this light?

are we nearly home?

 

we are faceless

so unseen

 

lip under hat

and hold on

 

#2323 -- what’s on the other side of a word?

 

2323

7.130

11.v.26

what’s on the other side of a word?

 

this whisper

grip of grief

full throat

the giving and away

 

smudge smear

mind scribble

guess at the way

 

often there’s firstliness

a word’s worn

 

it was a rope

and had to haul

 

no other way over yet

 

I call it a way of life