Tuesday, July 10, 2012

One, I could hammer into a shed door,
the back of it,
all rough with splinters.

Rocking her in your arms
you walked around the kitchen
rocking slowly
minding the white
christener shawl
did not snag
Think of that. Was it her or me?
Was it to still my clamour?

plain salute mark creep lapse sign oral freak chart detail total drill squat

Then, away yard, eh?  
bloody nice, fire in the throat.
Drumstick crew has run crazy along the quay.  
And the iron is a doll now, sling it in the boat.

Estuary harvest, mud neck and crop,
like dill tongues,
well, that was the parish:
husk and creature plaited to a penny piece.
The television sun

Was is to make your point,
Was it to still my clamour,
the needles are swarming up the woods
so close
together
growing so close
Monster,
almost.
chock
I think it says
ckohc
ckoabl




 
 


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