#1518 - tree is a clock too

 

1518

5.57

26.ii.24

tree is a clock too

ekphrastic for Louise Bourgeois’ 1999 ‘Topiary’

 

hands are steel

time is the arms pointing twice

or it’s just a need

 

beast howling in the well

 

not even to the dark

not even silence

 

but round and round tomb

 

our own shaping chaos

a five legged cat for the corner

 

.

 

every confession hung upside out

then the bellows flesh

 

it’s deep the risk, a colour

sometimes almost sung

 

reminds me

we are under a thing

who knows?

 

things you will find untitle selves

 

we make the place where we are

 

 

.

 

 

this is breath

bears the words away

 

we are the unknown

 

are hammered with light

 

in a jar

and limb from the bin inscribed

 

a bloodrush sky for mystery

 

so dark to be home

 

.

 

wilderness of guesses

voice required

 

as in

‘the little girl I knew when she was my mother’

 

as in our thunder

and art of heaven

 

here and there words where we’ve gone

 

here to guess again

 

.

 

 

a tree is a clock

draws up

the all that shone before

 

and gives the sun its shine

 

there are times we forget what the soil is about

 

a work to me is corner

of the edge that is human

 

I’m here to say it

 

what is cave but window deep?

 

years inscribe us

things are stuck through

 

growths, vexings

spears

things balanced

turd piles

innids too

 

something squat and taken for death

 

pins, cleats, nails

things are screwed tight down

 

things you’ve not quite dreamt

 

.

 

the home hangs half under

still in the air

a kind of cocoon

and emerging hence

no time to wonder

‘will I become?’

 

the tree wears a dress

carries crutches

lacks limb

but it casts a shadow

 

it’s all signed

no one is waiting for this

 

I’m just giving you the facts