Robert Verdon, #379, high and wild
nails ripped out, a
glissando of them
wind comes cantering
across the new potato fields
a howitzer digging
foxholes for the invaders
tripping moist on
the hills, picking out sweat on the temples
offal and bullets on
the wind tonight
I shall stay home
broken glass mother
whipping pearl
necklaces in the apple trees
unnatural spring
nacreous harp of sun
under the oldest branches
life warbles on
open-mouthed in a
palladium
the prisoner’s
cinema, showing at eight
gangrenous
towers, knitted skeletons, ripe knuckled hedgerows, terminal friends,
bone cancer churches, cats left uncared for, wooden lives, russet
blowflies, frosty nostrums, sooky kookaburras, Vladimir Vein and the
Vampires, ocelot nighties, people who have died standing up, fetters
grinding like kneecaps
…
blue honey, blue I
am
don’t tell me I’m
sweet
as blackberry jam
let
us go then, you and I,
dawn
spreadeagle across the sky
Wow. Like wow.
ReplyDeleteTerrific. Needs to be performed.
ReplyDeleteHaunting
ReplyDeletethanks to all
ReplyDelete