214
the truth
(poem for the
Horse's Birthday)
towards the
big catalogue of fearful abstractions
it's the
truth
keeps coming
at me
eyes open,
shut, the same
I'm telling
you
sometimes
morning reveals
it's all
changes
and just
where the light
happens to
shine
rears an ugly
face
rears whole
tribes
they set upon
each other with it
it stretches
like a length of yarn
and ties up
hope
sometimes
borne off
as worm in
beak
and guzzled
down
birds have
the whole of a tree
to sing
and move on
from there
that must be
their truth
I see where
bandicoot's
gone to
ground
that was a
snout at the thing
a shadow can
make you taller
mirror might
make squat
night is when
the truth's to heart
and takes me
under wing
you don't
know how I feel
how I came
nor I of you
in this
respect
our truth's
the same
it has a tail
to catch
it bites
and it's all
promised land
was builded
biblically
it was the
start of something
lightbulb
lightning rod
struck, split
make light of
it if you like
your lookout
I'm always
stumbling on it
and stumbling
often on without
sometimes
it's hard for the two of us
just to fit
on the page
keep moving
it
the cold
creeps in
the truth is
someone's cheese
can be a
terrible distraction
how we ache
for it
in mystery
mired
set oars to
sea
until no
continent's unturned
all moonless
musing
we are slaves
of
justice is a
theft of it
where
everything's 'so-called'
some days
it's baroque, byzantine
as in leaves
flutter up
the sky's no
limit
it's so low
no limbo
outlandish
costumes
you'd never
have guessed
there are
days you can see the strings
and how truth
dances for us
for them
not quite
high noon
this is comic
relief
come to this
altar
you turn off
certain streams of the brain
mind where
the truth is then
or take away
the words
- what's
left?
all in my
head
all my own
work
and take it
from me
that's gospel
Sure. But I think it's your shout, mate.
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