In this episode of 'Poem of the Week' Alicia Sometimes reads 'Universality'. ABR Editor, Peter Rose, introduces Alicia who then reads and discusses her poem.
From this vantage, Mercury and Mars hang parenthetical
closed sentences while the rest of the galaxy is translucent.
The stars, floating caravels in a mesmerizing battalion.
This hill, with its cape of wind and ebb of solace
allow me to reach out and stroke Jupiter's moons.
Peering into the beginnings of things.
You stand beside me in that tan, torn coat
as stellar showers squint in the dark face of time.
How large our curiosity looms.
Your knot-thick hands clasp the creases of the hardwood.
Peering up from the malt-stream deciphering knowledge perpendicular.
These figures eminent, exclamation marks to history.
You said it's important to see more than we're told to.
Here, with your camera, fragmented moments peel down like bark.
No-one can sweep Styx Valley without getting burned themselves.
Now, the moon is almost hidden
Every note from Bob Dylan's lips
falls to the ground perfectly re-formed.
Each vowel running its fingers over my back
anticipation of answers and comfort.
Lyrics, bending chronology.
Orpheus himself weeping.
Museums of disembodied hope.
Now we're talking about absolutely everything.
Simone Weil said: 'Truth is on this side of death'.
The cat is both alive and dead and looking out the window.
Astronomers rarely look up at the sky.
Instruments detect invisible signals.
Lists of graphs and diagrams and numbers
chart the unknown and unheard and unsung.
You come home and warm up by the fire.
You open your mouth to say something.
Words, untamed as a strand of string.
Possibilities open like a box.
Alica Sometimes recently edited (with Nicole Hayes) From the Outer: Footy like you've never heard it (Black Inc.), an anthology of football stories, which was reviewed by Patrick Allington in the June-July issue of ABR.
Intro music by www.bensound.com
Music featured in 'Universality' is by Andrew Watson