#291 - singularity of a hat

 

                                       

10. x.20

291

singularity of a hat

 

to shape the head

or say it maketh

sun all these miles

and moonlit too

still a direct hit

 

shady, in the most personal sense

it is the overhead say sheepfold felt

 

all the great thoughts gather here

and sort out some excuses

 

turn up the volume

lower ears

or cock to wry

trick breezes

 

fingerhole in brim to handle

 

on just a little jaunt

feather for swagger

falls off  

 

I dips me lid

some say crown

or unhorse kingdoms

but call to the old akubra

it comes

 

under this baldness

a shielding

lines are legend each

 

dry dignity was under once

but all that washed

 

it may catch alight with the setting

a certain angle say

 

this one’s to buggery and back

did trenches

slouch Kokoda too

 

and you could keep the pudding there

all sing ‘God Save the King’

 

makes a lovely raft for floodsprite

pegmen say

 

a dance of trousers till

and never knew the wardrobes

or the hatters, bar but once

 

world in that one, all will say

a working hat

sacred to the breeze’s secret

has known the better days

 

the garden of proposals

 

blows off

and blows away

  

#290 jeux d'eau

9.x.20

290

jeux d’eau

a summer presage

 

come kids

over the bindies

shivering in

 

and trick light down

a perfect roundness

lasting towards

just this in the picture

world shone out

 

hours to next

and sometimes salted

a welling at the source

 

let all economies so flow

a tickle down your chill

but dare

go bare

above ground

 

march the circle

run

make whirl

float round

all summer told

 

this under koel

swum

set of sun

 

a spin of stars

all falling

                  

#289 - the unknown artist

8.x.20

289

the unknown artist

 

a float in, unroofed

pauses, brinking at the work

let’s call it

 

trip windows

tell my joy

 

a quiverful

worded in with a statement

life towards the light and this

 

so fraught

not one dry eye

 

swim under

worry my bone

sing so the words may find you  

 

and will it be a go again? 

 

this is Johnny’s one tune

swoon, come with me home

 

here’s a world up over turning

eat me and drink me

serve a war

here are pockets of death

and dig

 

uttermost to heart

finding a way through

call it a page

 

much chat among the discarded

and with the might have beens

 

edge

and mirror making

 

here’s your inner

soaked in which?

 

fill canvases – still sail

 

come inch me home

see all the city stands

invisible hands made here

 

last trumps

 

stumble onto and over we go

 

once more into the breach

and buried

proud of the picture that’s gone

 

the unknown artist

featureless monument past flesh

 

rag ladder

together invent

and lie down with fleas

 

come follow the trail

of sharps and flats

 

a coin fell into the cup once

 

walls of this one

sem titulo

 

of course the art must be unknown

it’s that’s the way we go

 

let the vessel raise steam

 

will you come worship me

strew questions?

we are graveless

 

up and follow me zombies

namelessly go, makers

to the finishing

 

tell the kingdom of come

 

is the sound we make

the vanishing without a trace

though you have found me here

?

#288 - in the busy book

7.x.20

288

in the busy book

 

a doodle at the day

find me

(not proving a thing)

but hard at the oars

and a little sky polish

spit and

I worm a way as well    or ferret 

thick with the secret readers

who’ll never show themselves

 

of course there are stray calculations

and much of a to-do

 

choosing titles

a fabric

dragging out an old truth

or just the image flog

 

I take the storm for telling

and sleep it off in here

 

in the busy book

one is becoming a force of nature

where else can it be done?

 

still have to cover all the angles

scratch roof

and through the walls

 

throw me to the questions

 

cross writing

read between

see the deeps in   

 

and fill the whole room

with heart with hope

 

the garden

and old book

known by whiff

go blind

come never twice the same

take seasons to it home for a keepsake

(where such things are not attempted)

 

seldom break a sweat

sometimes come as far as I can go

 

of course where no one’s ever been

but aint it all familiar?

 

busy me with I’ll say devilry

hands over

and coasting out of fuel

a wicked waste of conversation

 

there’s nothing to prove in here

 

one day I’ll be discovered

long gone, not missed

 

they’ll think ‘thank gods its over

he was never going to shut up …

now we can get on’

 

in the busy book

they are singing a moon

for a first time up

come down in the last shower

 

it’s tin and thunder for a home there

though must you call it humpy?

 

one dots up at a later date

to show explorers’ routes

 

are breezes but you’ll find no broom

do all come under erasure?

 

no, I choose immortality

and number it in days

overwhelm the world

as far as the forward estimates

 

one goes quotational at times

much quippery

thrash theory out before it takes

deictic!

all the here with and before

 

things, weather and trick them along

 

a godlessness to raw invent

 

bliss myself

often with ponder

 

along this path come and tell me

have you been as well?

 

I know you are my creature

though cannot draw but wonder till

we are complete

and bare the soul to none such

 

fools rush in to blather

 

there are several anathemae

 

and all of this before

we even

come for the colouring in 

#287 - two poems - spring whiff & solar dog

 

6.x.20

287

spring whiff

 

loud as the orange blossom

and the moon past full

a ding!

 

and trips us

 

bright stars

frogs of a telling

 

rain is a little prayer

for all fall

 

who will keep the count?

 

come in the

round

round

as all of these voices

and never one twice the same

 

                   

 

solar dog and so on 

 

for Daniel Ionita

 

I sing the whim electric

quod erat demonstrandum

 

today I am inventing the mobile solar collector

(with personality, with attitude)…

practically you may think of it as a battery on wheels

 

like the lawnmower, like the vacuum cleaner

it scoots about nobly questing

(garden or conservatory)

and this one gathers the sun

(may hunt in a pack, herd or coven)

nights come together

roost in a bank

and power our every whim

 

begin with the silent servant idea

it mows, it sweeps, it cleans

it sings

 

by little wheels like feet dash

hither and yon

and why not legs?

and lift them?

why not a tail?

 

I’m making mine a dog

(choose any breed or mongrel)

comes when called

or you could whistle

all self powered

self drive of course

no remote required

… it knows

by sniff

 

and why stop there?

the solar bird’s perfect for cloudy days

soars high

and later homes

 

a multitude perhaps

(batteries like the one in your watch)

 

economies of scale!

consider the solar beetle

(oops goes over)

consider the ant

(thermal power too!)

 

unfortunately our prototype dog

takes its genes too seriously

will run at pond or mire and roll

(might as well have a solar pig)

 

this may cloud the panels

then you’ll have to get them licked

or wait for what comes down

in the next shower

 

still the solar dog

can bury all the bones and dig

and with the right programming

could fetch in the paper

turn things on by nose

draw your sledge across the Antarctic summer

 

tomorrow I’ll be inventing

a cat

(start from scratch)

 

it may yet chase the solar birds

but they’re a later rollout

anyway we can make them faster

or taste bad or spiky

 

solar cat can do your nails

take off rough skin

licks itself clean

makes fur balls

purrs

but can’t be bothered storing

 

it uses all of the power in the sun

just to lap up the freshest of cream