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Being from a young nation you find that dawn beguiles you
onto the exhausted saltmarsh,
miles of morose vacuity clad
in couch grass, cottonweed, random puddles, wire
and the odd, triumphant
flourish of pampas grass
featherily trying to tell dead factories,
Look here,
something fans, even at the far edge of Europe
where large gulls crowd and abruptly dip, although
the fish have all gone home to bed.
... (read more)
Well, it’s been waiting all these years, like a poem
asleep in the word-hoard, its prince to come,
kiss at the ready, and bloom it forth to the world:
or like a kouros, hauled with pain
from the gnarling waters, smiling gaze intact,
its maker long put out to sea:
or like that ‘orient and immortal wheat’ that waved
before Traherne, a child bereft,
and set him claiming Paradise again:
yes, it’s here for the restless heart –
The American Express Gold Card Dress – and all
may now be well at last.
... (read more)Come – no grazed knee, no tears, no –
no fear of darkness in the singing wood.
Hear the threnody written on the wind:
a lament not for lostness, no, but for the slow
path homewards, the pebbles which guide us:
... (read more)The time’s come round again, blind pomegranates shine
In their dark bins like tawny Tuscan wine.
... (read more)for Craig Sherborne
‘Grief wrongs us so.’
Douglas Dunn
To the sea we bear our fathers in state –
or what they’ve done to them: the square conversions.
Surf mild as receding tides,
we slump in dunes with our burdens,
... (read more)