at the place I turn a cheek to between anatomy of hip and certainty where science and faith untangle tongues, discover all languages in that sweeping terrain each vertebrae a patent your secrets safe there my heart folding out of office in the finest drafting gender less in ways sculptors see 'Unstill … Continue reading But my lips digress
Author: James Walton
Potter’s Wheel
I saw you straight away although you had to point yourself out to the avid collector recalling years you were always on my horizon love like a maker’s relief embossed on an urn the artisan ownership engraved by an apprentice’s hand how beauty is marked by the young’s flensing hope cut down to the … Continue reading Potter’s Wheel
‘Space’ poems, readings for Wednesday Night Poetry, Hot Springs, Arkansas. S.O.S, Interstellar Notes – Travel Warnings – Earth, Letter to Lois.
Semi naked by Winter late
I have had to prune the tree magnolia those dinner plate china flowers swamping shade over everything and the calligraphy of sun on my back mixes the air to a fine point exotica by the incessant call of relentless waves behind the big dunes now puffed up those wedges of agent’s fists and knuckles … Continue reading Semi naked by Winter late
Unrequited forester contrite with sunrise
still smouldering with interred lightning this tempered wilderness life drawings of fire dance in alphabet hills make charcoal smudge the outlines saltpetre heathen tongues peel back these veins as gut for flamenco in the valleys now courts the dragon eludes the celibate dawn will your heart match the wing flap seek without shame and … Continue reading Unrequited forester contrite with sunrise
Prayerful of feathers
Late winter and ducks parade on our roof off key instruments play down each chimney the aged clay pots a fluted wobble of tone while they wait for the youngest to realize the distant brush of brackish view over to the wetlands water seized on crema there must be a fortune to a reason … Continue reading Prayerful of feathers
Under the Flinders Street Clocks
I am waiting We were seventeen when you said we’d meet under the clocks at Flinders Street Station, each decade for twenty years I waited for you. Photographed by students, longingly harassed by alms gatherers, still there the third time that other guy, seen by everyone in the woollen monk’s habit morphed out of … Continue reading Under the Flinders Street Clocks
flousing the curve
I am turning left more in the rectangular seduction of streets on the dunes grass trees all knobbly persistence shake a cautionary the belief of footpaths shallow by cracks in their secular metres prise at sanctuary solar streetlights flicker abandon to day fother to a wane a diagonal gesture a shadow of curtsey all … Continue reading flousing the curve
Malcolm Lowry’s Sports Coat
Out of the streets of the dead swirling in the gravy of their Day I came into a room of cactus and honey where the memory of you span on an old turntable the colour of hand knitted socks hanging from a clothesline of words and all the while a man at a table … Continue reading Malcolm Lowry’s Sports Coat
Delphi Descent
The only thing that you will ever learn is that love won’t break your heart, usually. Tear out those wrist lines paint them in the blood of the goat, carefully. When you hang me upside down remember whether obedience or heavenly nearness, summoned. Hands outstretched offered in peace no longer warmed at the oracle … Continue reading Delphi Descent