2200
7.7
7.i.26
woke
up one morning
found I was gone
which is a kind of monster
made of strange parts
these are not there at all
so where then why?
in a picture, in a poem
mainframe, upload, down
funny, you’ll think of me to
say
on hindlegs and tiptoe
not at all
I guess you guessed it
not a trace of me but this
2199
7.6
6.i.26
on a
day when the guests don’t show
still we have prepared for them
a day as any other
turns with a heavenly body
too
the unseen, my companion
we are all here for the
unexpecting
old friends still
look up
leaf through branches
there’s a little heartfelt
knowing
to turn the day around
and welcome!
that’s what we must find
we welcome such
selves as we are
2198
7.5
5.i.26
Sunday
afternoon
the escape from words
in dim of day out and by biscuit
go on into time as yet
unlived
escape from words into a
picture
the one that is
the one will be
I cover time
it comes into the picture
follow along like a pup
there’s danger
time has me covered
shots ring out a ricochet
I mean to traipse
the armour of words wears me
out
at last this breath of air
the poem calls tomorrow
and now we’ll say today
I remember it now
how to be
to be gone
to be wordless away
to know my own beyond
I remember
the lightning in the mind
the thunder in the heart
do you
ever accept the whole of the sky?
it’s a
stretch admittedly
goes
on
day piles
with what a weight of sky
blue
is just a day of it
and
there are deeps of blue
pale
to fade
come
queue the clouds
or
crowd them on
by
wisp, by feather, bone
a sky
will turn
has,
does
and
then for dark
come
stars
we’ve
never been
to entertain
the illusion of distance
there’s
up in the air
and
where there’s none
there’s
all of the beyond in it
sky, I
mean
did
you know it’s revolving?
and
made of not quite nothing
you
could think the one breath
even
in the stillness so
you’re
just as absolute a part
there’s
an over paddock hammering
a
rumble up away
insects
come to land
imagine
here
where I’ve not seen you before
it’s
as with night we sleep to
the
weather all at once
it’s
where you’re fallen from
you
rise
do you
ever accept the whole of the sky?
will you?
won’t
you?
why?
2197
7.4
4.i.26
all
the world’s spent prayers
for godsbother
all the world’s spent
prayers rain down
one can’t claim not to be
struck
old wishes stick
not everyone will see
can you hear them though?
some whispered
some still shout
many from agony, disbelief
all these bibles of a want
what to do? what to do with
them?
cave deeps guessed, old gods
addressed
and then the story done to
death
as sky’s my conch wash ear
to
desert for a waste
track on
high up with the tune in my
branches
lost prayers!
you might have sent yourself
what have they to do with
us?
fervour of a dream this
weather
had caught in cloud rafters
else
clerks had filed mid-air
now they fall
as if a spring clean there
as if the management had
changed
we’re all of a wonder hands
up and catch
yes, they’re a kind of
record
everyone wants a souvenir
and every prayer
like us as far disconsolate
just as we are
having never made it
to heaven
2196
7.3
3.i.26
to let
words fail
for Stephanie Holt, after a line
of hers
to find their way
find ours
words have led us thus far
out of the mists this magic
and where words fail
a face tells all
resort to colour, other
lines
they, too, part of my day
words after all just thin
slurry
paint dries, old marks show
through
and heart?
that’s further
we go back to numbers
where we began
a song without – just wings
find a gesture
go back
think grunt
tickle
tantrum too
I am always preparing this
escape
I’m at the stone with an old
bent fork
chip and scratch, scratch,
chip
dust piles
blow it off
these shapes of violence
tend to mean
scrape further
the old words return
out there are the woods
where things have no names
Alice, her fond fawn
he’ll flee
but the words are still
running laps of my head
wind up in this treatise
the city collapses in a map
words fail me
they’re still here
