1.
Black thrumming runway
its deep core solid and hot
there's a beach somewhere
they will not stay there long
the minutes will look fixed
it could be a strange mess
the sea retakes the shells
all tomorrow's parties
must begin today.
2.
Finally at the baggage claim
the humming rock the cradle
cranked away from sight
in sortation through a system
your electric razor's tossed
because it's a useless current
your favourite sweater now
worn by a sweating freak
an undecided cretin tries
to decipher your precious book
the start of the big machine
bumps against a rubber belt
at our big carousel of wanting
a bawling toddler's pointing
at a chicken foot going round
in a fog you can barely see.
3.
From the sky to the stun of day
off the plane down the ramp
she left last week's paper there
and a bad novel dog-eared page 5
the sun is blinding (where is this?)
she sees the goons at 4 o'clock
control her usual breeze of air
waiting for the big bag to come off
Customs Customs moment coming
she's now forgotten al-Qur'an
3 children and an evil mother-in-law
she suspects her faith is wanting.
4.
A loving treatment of time
where did it go post-nostalgia
present serendip cool across
the tarmac and swept away
instead I'm running out of time
sitting in this dark room alone
no more gifts please let me sleep
stop asking if I'm already there
my note to self in a book of hours
buy me a nice watch tomorrow
this morning in the airport pursuant
to baggage claim I claimed nothing.
_____________
Note: Writing these poems, I was of course listening to Eno's classic. I owe much to that. But while I once thought they were about airports, air friction, the ground, the weariness of the destination and the weariness of the way back -- now I don't think they are about airports at all, but rather about us all getting safely to the places we're going. God bless. Godspeed. We are bees.
Black thrumming runway
its deep core solid and hot
there's a beach somewhere
they will not stay there long
the minutes will look fixed
it could be a strange mess
the sea retakes the shells
all tomorrow's parties
must begin today.
2.
Finally at the baggage claim
the humming rock the cradle
cranked away from sight
in sortation through a system
your electric razor's tossed
because it's a useless current
your favourite sweater now
worn by a sweating freak
an undecided cretin tries
to decipher your precious book
the start of the big machine
bumps against a rubber belt
at our big carousel of wanting
a bawling toddler's pointing
at a chicken foot going round
in a fog you can barely see.
3.
From the sky to the stun of day
off the plane down the ramp
she left last week's paper there
and a bad novel dog-eared page 5
the sun is blinding (where is this?)
she sees the goons at 4 o'clock
control her usual breeze of air
waiting for the big bag to come off
Customs Customs moment coming
she's now forgotten al-Qur'an
3 children and an evil mother-in-law
she suspects her faith is wanting.
4.
A loving treatment of time
where did it go post-nostalgia
present serendip cool across
the tarmac and swept away
instead I'm running out of time
sitting in this dark room alone
no more gifts please let me sleep
stop asking if I'm already there
my note to self in a book of hours
buy me a nice watch tomorrow
this morning in the airport pursuant
to baggage claim I claimed nothing.
_____________
Note: Writing these poems, I was of course listening to Eno's classic. I owe much to that. But while I once thought they were about airports, air friction, the ground, the weariness of the destination and the weariness of the way back -- now I don't think they are about airports at all, but rather about us all getting safely to the places we're going. God bless. Godspeed. We are bees.
full steam ahead with post-nostalgia
ReplyDelete(from one airport to another, Copenhagen in my case)
Godspeed. We are bees.
DeleteExcellent Rob - takes me back to endless waits in Chinese airports every goddamn week for years...
ReplyDelete