Night rattles the tiles, the street glass roils, reflects traffics of cars, faces. Moon, too, yes. But, no star arcs in raindrops; shoeshine puddles even the paving. Trainbent, late, and suddenly lost. Of the first to cross the mouth of the concourse, I ask direction, but with apology he passes without pause. A near full … Continue reading box of light.
the very last words that she heard were, “hey, man! they’ve just landed!” it was late one night in ‘69 we laid her out on a big blue blanket. we carried her down to the beach through the town, there was a storm brewing on the atlantic. the needle dropped down and i heard the … Continue reading Side 2 of Beggar’s Banquet.
behind a bending fence, bowed and ivy veined, the sad garden grows, unbound, around your father's house. the vicar passes an envelope to you, pencilled with the word - piano - and begins to play something glissando. where flowers grew, fingers potted. ashes into earth and creasing paper: john 6: 1 - 14, we listened … Continue reading a continuous slide.
aired on the evening, his words are battle scarred and breathless, barely heard. but the floor, i note, begins to shadow.
celtic fires on this hyrne or horn, this gifted tongue of kent, still dream of trade armadas in the offing, above the stove of timbers. turnstones on the shore ungravel kilned penny pipes and pins and shingle, a bronze of barnes wallis and some kid skimming stones.