Stay in the loop and register for email updates about events, competitions and all things poetry.
Stay in the loop and register for email updates about events, competitions and all things poetry.
Thunder first, locked up in babble
rain-eyed gods on their backs
you staying in the forefront,
black ribbon, angel headless,
four standing roses and a background of wind-split
you died in America for the last time
Jason Molina holding all the horses
behind the last slip dawn rain
I cannot live in a place that doesn't save its people in time
I cannot live in a place that doesn’t live out its own odyssey
so the myths are paralysed
the myths are luminous riddles
the horses are all full
the saints are bold cannons
love is a vacuum mist
a showed weekend of dreams on repeat
A distant screen to both worlds
a second think to the running light
10 seconds where morning is at one with daytime
clasping in the change of lightness
lugging the stones of womanliness
peaking and popping when everything breaks
10 seconds where morning is at one with daytime
a spin of patter, a direction that needs no explanation
downwards to the earth
a curtain of forward and back
A slide of swan dance
swaying in animal timing
the last joy to morning is the memory
the animals are laughing
grasping forward they escape
light continues to slide out
the gods are asleep now and far away
a preview of reflections border the world
night is lowered to day and the actors arrive
worrying their costumes.
Commissioned for National Poetry Library's Open Day 2018 on the theme of 'Odysseys'. Part of London Literature Festival.