#2315 - four little practice poems for Chris Mansell

 

2315

7.122

3.v.26

four little poems for Chris Mansell

following her workshop session

 

 

to be where I particularly am

 

no camera

 

blank terror

a walk into words

 

carry thing around

it’s lonely

 

there’s this me

no other

 

pivot of else

and now again

 

I’ll find myself

 

where

I in particular

am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

historic

 

the apple

 

of eye to see

 

it’s the colour of something

(I won’t say)

 

one among the flock

 

and bitter sour or what-you-will

 

of the type, delicious

 

tree’s green too, leaf

that’s the true thing, note

 

I mumble it out, hoping

 

and look, no hands

here’s Coleridge, some of his grazing mates

 

they’ve just come to take a bite

 

 

 

 

that which and of he so she

 

by my but till or if when

what from some else still then?

with yes not it

like that

like that

and round about

just so

!

 

 

 

 

 

insofar and no further than

 

my father always quipped

 

and what he meant was

words aren’t long enough in this country

 

though I don’t think

he ever said this as such