The buddha's tooth
(for matt – 15) In the first seven years you choose your howdah Having by then bare inklings of a journey But where or why – confusion there to cloud a Judgement no more
From the Ansty Experience
(a) They seek to celebrate the word Not to bring their knives out on a poem Dissecting it to find a heart Whose beat lies naked on a table Not to score in triumph
Wimborne minster
though there’s not much faith left And very little snow This scene of wimborne minster Still makes its christmas show The building’s warm proportions Its sense of move-me-not Catches this winter pagan On a
Blue dress
i can see through the blue Dress when you stand In the doorway – the light Come indoors softly like A cat between your legs When you walk and The dress flows Over the
Convolvulus-age
up the ladder and round the bend Age spirals like a convolvulus Its bells break into the light Catching breath with their beauty But how in the sightless earth Its roots work to a
Haunting the quark
(I) If you can’t scientifically explain it Dawkins says it has no value – some hope Inside the mechanical framework of a guess (as far as any fact can truly grope) Doubts roam –
From crossing the line
(1) a great man There was a great man So great he couldn’t be criticised in the light Who died And for a whole week people turned up their collars over their ears And
The man the gun and the dog
yesterday the man was pleased The sun sat in the tree and all Upon the land held to the harmony His coming then expected his gun in his arm his dog at his heels
Temporising with the eternal
i don’t know what you’re up to Yet but for me You wouldn’t exist (not on this page anyway – Not using the word exist) So – you’re a fake (eternity) One i wouldn’t
The adventures (from frederick and the enchantress – dance drama)
(i) introduction his home in ruins his parents gone frederick seeks to reclaim his throne to the golden mountain he sets his path the enchantress listening schemes with wrath four desperate trials which she
Uganda cry
i have lost touch over the years With the hot africa inside me Illness and all – i spread to root In the red earth siphoned the sun Loved the black inflections of my
Humming-bird pie
the paiute indians had the bird sussed A humming bird (loaded with seeds) set out To see beyond the sun – it aimed to be frugal Rationing itself to only one seed a day
Sacked
fog owns the town In its palm Lawyers nibble each other’s fingers The churches take their cut At the fat lunch The men of business Carve themselves prayers and praises The fog comes to
Agapanthus – african lily
[from agape (love); anthus (flower)] You may not be willing to notice me I have an awkward sense of myself My name can be hard on the tongue I do not grow easily in
I'm going to give up loving you
i’m going to give up loving you I’m going to hate you instead Living’s so difficult difficult baby Hating’s like staying in bed You expect too much when i’m loving you I haven’t got
The sex-peace
the first thing about a man my son Is that he’s not a woman – and don’t Let any woman tell you what a man is Or any kind of man with his own
Crematorium-return
(to where the ashes of both my parents are strewn) I) Ok the pair of you lie still What’s disturbing me need pass No fretful hand over your peace This world’s vicissitudes are stale
The people
tangwena says this is our land soiled by the blood of black centuries Smith says the white tongue goes bang bang black must learn words of a new march Tangwena says every tree here
As the snow fell
the children played games Getting from here To where the truth was Without touching a flake Needless to say The only ones who got there Were liars But while the honest ones Shrank back
Two south coast poems (a) this morning i came within sound of the sea
for a man whose eyes till now were a bed of rock Whose hands were drier than deserts The sea’s voice drove fear up through the valley The tributaries meandering inside me longing for
Elusive wisdom
thoth (who became hermes who became mercury) Who was both moon and wisdom to the egyptians Manifested himself mainly as an ibis – a watery bird A restless creature that could not stop searching
Thought for the ordinary
be moved by your own time But move it too The sun hasn’t all the answers It can be made to listen to you However adamant the pavement It’s a book of feet Though
A koestler on the human brain
the man and the horse and the crocodile Lay down on the couch together The man said This isn’t going to work The horse neighed I love you The crocodile Slimy as ever Neither
From Proverbs of Hell
(a) radical Ban all fires And places where people congregate To create comfort Put an end to sleep Good cooking And the delectation of wine Tear lovers apart Piss on the sun and moon
Thirteeners
18 If you want a revolution attack Symbols not systems – the simple forms That (blithely) give the truth away Tying down millions to their terms Quietly with no one answering back Where the
Milano
wandering around milan my father I know that (bred in the bone) i’m you I walk and think – my legs roll onwards I take in the atmosphere but not the view But now
Chicken's claw
by a dank and ancient coffin In the gaunt and gloomy hall Alone and sighing deeply Crouched the sorriest crone of all Her worn hands clutched a feather Her eyes were sore with tears
Christmas in a box
the policeman on the streets Found christmas in a box Tipped it down a manhole It wasn’t wearing socks A little old lady nearby – The poor sod’s done no harm She got hit
Shaw and jung
shaw had the gift of the crab How he took the straight idea And scuttled with it sideways Marking sand and word with sea’s Inventions – what shaw perceived Went deeper than the lounger’s
Natural therapy
the great thing about the tall white daisy Is that it knows how to laugh at itself Some flowers for all their rich displays Won’t preen themselves without a primness In their sap –
Confession
for all my country poses My cells belong to a town Grass is symbol-deep in me But brick dips deeper down Mountains knock me sideways A moor chills my bones A field of wheat
Images of snow – february 1996
snow is a thousand flowers The chinese probably said Hundreds and thousands this morning Drop their garlands on my head Last night the festoons started Long before we went to bed Snow is a
Penelope
name meaning thread weaver or duck (these may be guesses from obscurity) Ten-year faithful wife whilst her husband Was gallivanting round the islands Deceiving the suitors by her shroud-unpicking Or maybe not such a