Originally posted on Poethead:
Fable When I look back I seem to remember singing. Yet it was always silent in that long warm room. Impenetrable, those walls, we thought, Dark with ancient shields.The light Shone on the head of a girl or young limbs Spread carelessly. And the low voices Rose in the silence and…
The House of Altogether Nothing The countryside in which it stands Is broken with large jagged rocks. Its trees are dark, from northern lands, Whose branches scratch the sky; boney bough knocks One against the other. Cold winds finger through Odd strands of captured human hair, Torn newspaper strips look as if they grew Amongst…
what is beneath ? a scrap of satin – some wood and what is beneath the wood ? dirt, the earth, it is cold is it alive ? it contains the stir of flowers it contains the whispering grass and above it all ? . some turf the blue…
Flower Village I learnt how to stand put from a flower Saw no other sun drank no other water I recognized my roots as a village my earth, the sky Seasons passed above me a nest of ants, bosom friends I learnt how to be a flower solely… solely standing…
Poems from ‘Signature’ thistle roll thistle roll twig sphere scatters a thicket clump looks alive, its red-tipped a blown-feather bag blown to a bird-corpse let lie its throat opened out purple the thistle-roll and hue, purple the cry tear a field of ewes, their winter wool loose…
