2301
7.108
19.iv.26
the travel
of clouds and a stillness
wouldn’t
even know it had rained
dark,
still guessing
might
have been the wind
fruit
hangs where it’s ours to catch
or will
does a
wallaby even know there are fences?
they
are subliminal, sublime
look
up, along or at your feet
wouldn’t
know a world was turning
music
meant for us
could
almost sing
you
wouldn’t believe it’s today today
you
wouldn’t believe it’s today
2300
7.107
18.iv.26
the
struggle for crumb is work of a mouse
the
crocodile lies in wait
watch
your feet
or
learn to fly
we
polish the hubcaps here –
a
casino!
luck
is trying us
Alice
met a chicken-sized gnat
the
conversation went like this
nice
to fail if only if
treetop,
cloud and still
echo
of shed dog
barking
daylight
out of
season
the
downpour chill
moon
for a sliver set east
you
couldn’t have dreamt this up
kept
on
guess
a way
by
hoof, by cloven paw
thought
it might have been another day
was
hot on the trail of some heavenly body
and so
you find me
at a
languish
if not
one thing then
I have
been that mouse
whisker
and crumb
a
tunnel through moons of cheese
2299
7.106
17.iv.26
spilling
the dream
all
the day making
thing
askew
in
travels of a clock
fresh
mown
we fuss
for the long rhyme
time
sleeps off the adventure
here’s
petal just for strew
everything’s
about itself
and
join the dots
sign here
remember
– once we were gods
made clouds
to drape
I’m
just a minnow too
2298
7.105
16.iv.26
watching
the light come on
and
the sliver moon up east
lines
come
broad
brush to me
dreaming
sun up
a
first guess like the day
come
into focus
duck
lift and dew clad
walk
to the light
to be
warm
shake
pony legs out
a
steady on
a
smoke scarf fresh mown
whiff
to it
here
in a year’s other half
wouldn’t
call it singing though
2297
7.104
15.iv.26
everything
by accident
no other
better reason
the
here and how
its
why and when
they
pile up
make a
present
there’s
how the daylight
comes
and goes
by any
chance
say
luck, all said
and to
advantage
one
thing, another
the
action of time is not a clock
I met
you on the track
it was
the where of feet before
there’s anger in underword
joy in the absence
light lust
how
many mouths has this word been in?
how
many ears wrenched aside?
fresh
air
a loaf
to rise
an
accident in all events
turns
from the truth to make one’s own
a very
everyday occurrence
wordlessly
at times
you
know I mean it too
2296
7.103
14.iv.26
I went
looking for tomorrow’s poem
made a
little cap of my hand
that
was to scan the horizon
had a
good gaze
I set
out as if day were a page
and so
it is
I searched
in the fallow
knew I
had the words
or it
was under them all along
or I
had been
now
the poem was gone
had my
hunting hat, my whistle
took
along a grim thesaurus
I gambled
with the light
one
must conjure one’s own, you know
yet what’s
to come must lie out of prediction
as if
a thought askew
an object
in the wilds of will
a
picture musing too
you’d
think somewhere in my head ahead
the
poem come unstuck
leash
loosed at least
or
tether ending
I’d
tempt it in with, say, sugar
or sly
– a sidle up, rub here
and wisely
one
sneaks up behind
tap or
a tickle
will
words turn?
one
never knows what will find
but
that the poem’s wishful –
the
desperate hope
in a
drastic season
must
have been under the great stone of time
I call
it my own forever after
call
it all sorts of things
I hang
it on the wall and sing
although
it’s not yet there
