#818 - three poems - first morning of the world, we dream for the gone selves, abandoning the calendar

 

1.iv.22

818

3.91

first morning of the world

 

and god was

if we say

the busy one, the maker

gathering all blue to nest

bolting here there too

somebody had to

 

none knew day’s other parts back then

each new as his her skin

 

but someone thought to sing

then all sorts swam

 

air was

action rudimentary

we would come to flight

 

all innocent, shat the shore

washed away with dreams

 

that’s where we lived and how

all crows’ feet in the clay

nothing written down

 

took wheel to axe

where forest sprang

called it garden then

 

it was all the one day

till we came to the clock

 

and now we’ve come again

we dream for the gone selves we are

 

somewhere in the clock accused

a grasswind

arrived to me

a pointing

 

throw pictures

like the rug seller

fleece to the table

like lanolin

throw them from my head

in pencil, paint, by hand

 

I dreamt that someone was checking my words

often you won’t see the rules

still follow nevertheless

 

the diner with the plots proclaimed

hit men

(wouldn’t want them to know you knew!)

 

next the toff school suburban

vertiginous stairs

come down by railing

don’t look

the long walk home from the shops

not so long since

gutter, kerb

 

streetside., Mayfield, I think

little ornaments of a life

still shelved as if indoors

 

and the sun shone on the washing

it was only a moment though then

 

there were other places, faces

now they too are lost

 

we dream for the selves that are gone

 

 

 

abandoning the calendar

 

well slept

 

in every other year of my life

sky blue and creek roar too

 

there was a language I should be learning

a palette of the breezes

 

for somewhere to go

 

on other days

in other hours

and worded from the world

 

breath by breath

and deep in throes

 

in every other life

I dreamt the world to peace

 

away for a day

still with us now

 

falling apart

and that’s just to begin

 

come rescue, won’t you?

 

other seasons

suns shone

 

end in a cell

just the size of yourself

as lost as ever you were before

just making it up as you go