Poem
We admire it because it disdains to destroy us:
beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
Chagall’s falling man, a grandfather clock, a yellow
cow with a blue violin populate an allegory of terror
The abandoned ship was there one morning – a new broken headland –
shiny, sitting high on the low tide, with hundreds of windows like
blinking oval spectacles. Over months the view became fractured;
someone dubbed it the Marie Celeste ‘beached at last’ and a group of us
Drone
Someone says drone and I see the cell phone it tracks, see the hand holding the cell phone
Being tracked by the drone, see the arm connected to the hand holding the cell phone
Being tracked by the drone, see the shoulder manoeuvring the arm connected to the hand
Holding the cell phone being tracked by the drone, see the person attached to the shoulder
Manoeuv ...
A horizontal twister, but none of the dramatic life
and drop of hellraiser rides. Sedate, but vertiginous
enough to rearrange conceptions, open perceptions
to a very different York – those eucalypt canopies
a blur of recognition shifting the boundaries
Rags of snow unmelting on the southern lawn.
Those younger ones, whose death turns
on the hair’s-breadth incidence of accident,
avoid this perduration of slow misrecognition.
The far city must make itself known
even here in the sitting room and
barred by winter branches. The skyline
The far city must make itself known
even here in the sitting room and
barred by winter branches. The skyline ...
His feet were stubborn
on the frozen path.
He put it into His hand, then ...
Miracles are not like tempests.
Furlongs are not like hedgerows
though they come close ...