“The open-and-closed shutter of dream,
the bitten cry in the night, the language
of the heartland.”
– Wilson Harris, “Heartland” (1964)
Antarctic / freeze flight in temper rare / sheets white
collapse form ice floes sending bone whales seas away
for hump ‘n’ warmth.
Not much luck here – contact less on a reef, carrion
beaks ‘itching.
Elsewhere egg curates mop stomach
tiles in denial; rent stays due as gorging water lines sidle
up the silo.
Go ahead, blame
the piano scales of measure ! those cave bat bitch strain
droppings . see’f it matters.
+
Fliers leaving our island dodge rocks in space | on slate
roof they don’t do paper tests well.
They try poultry
sacrifice . tent fold up incomplete. One way cobble
stone nations shudder – Where’s the hard work in that?
Spackle the cracks on any profile . sap inside
soup stirring oozes through > faith filaments
sticky on smooth brow were knotting since the dawn
of damp.
*Earth detour arrows point Fuck
me! sideways again | meaning, globe rafters must refine
hollows to cool, sort codes out; argue about landing pin
points for the next crust swirl moon shot | mask, ropes
in the trunk.
– W.W.
CHARON
*BUT Charon, an auto-misunderstood freak,
Sometimes felt weak enough to tell Qat that all
His life had been as hard as he is simple
And that she had to imagine how anxious even
The most settled stone must feel because it has
Managed to arrive at that stability
Which all atoms must need to serve and betray.
A pebble-collector herself, Qat agreed:
A stone’s beauté lies in its staggered twitching,
Its slightest nicks dreaming of being full streams.
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
