Excercise #101

Excercise #101

an ash tray protection
in some wild lilly field
the violets, the yellows, the whites
a hovering birds-eye view
i sweep a hand to part the straws
surrounding criss-cross and fencing in
the still frame day

So much the sense of not moving
the bugs home to roost and slither
under me belt
i’m lying as moss now, the fungus
roots draining goods from a chamber or two
as a March Hare marches passed
not late
not early

We are shoulder to shoulder
jaws and lips locked
a mesh of family
on the brink/on holiday
an isle of stiff
a flake of squeak
casting some wants to age prone fullstops
as a grey cloud disolves here
and there

Do we slash apart the clim clam
reach a half heart
snatch the hope raft
a wooden ring earth warble
forest bird
my prize an anceint oak
i beseech thee
keep falling your leaves
year after year

Thin pillars
of this is what we survive on
and a rugged grunt
and a fine sounding reason
and a hunch against the distance
and a case of the gripes
and more is never enough

Takes us yet down
and yet further under the covers
a bluebell nods my day in the field
awash my senses
as we are about to receive

The old hyper-drive send off
wipes him out
bugger on the mount
child at the skirt
tuning in on the thwumps of proclamations
prolonged ear clicks
following God in poverty/following God in exile

I’m a master
they’ll be sure to teach
tune in to new tide warnings
radio squelch
give it a belt
and framing a life, less than living it
my students perfect corpses

Less the money
for bread and beer

(base poem used in 8th work pp. 209)

Copyright © Graeme Perrin 2023

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