it’s like hurtling through the moment of creation where the dog beguiles the trajectory of convoyed vans slogging it out to the next town a grand marquee in centre hinges all these grounds flings of carousel shift between performances taking the gloves off rushing to the country and western dark voice sings white love strums … Continue reading Darby Put a Spell on You/When the Stars Begin to Fall
Author: James Walton
Autumn Break
Spooky day. Mist so low and custard thick The river noiseless, a longboat prow Could come across the veranda. Cats have embraced all of yoga, curled As mollusc shells where spines shouldn’t bend. The orchard stripping crows are finally speechless, Stooped in their overcoats, raggedly on guard For something with the password. The air’s gone … Continue reading Autumn Break
In Respite, at Sixty-Six
I no longer seek to understand the shilly shag of aspiration more the settled stone why try to steal the wind? having seen the veils of rhetoric fall to tumbleweeds out of the ribs of ambition skilled out slim as fish bone swallow a broken habit breathe it out cloud a thing of loose direction … Continue reading In Respite, at Sixty-Six
Heart Stone
The cemetery cat asleep on the warm headstone careless of the worthy mason’s curfew ignores the adjustment to place my fingernails caught in the fierce scree of memory I try to place the language of a pebble from when we slept huddled at Roaring Meg waking laughing snoring back at snowflakes carried by a pilgrim’s … Continue reading Heart Stone
The Transmission of Leaves
This is the transmission of leaves the eatings worth of physillids a dusting of nigella seed within the guilty fingerprint by the unravelling meander after rain all cochineal as maple floats those burnt ceramics of summer now cracked and soothed under shade turned to a gentle tajine of promise an exclamation of hover flies pretending … Continue reading The Transmission of Leaves
Wuthering
for a while I was Cathy and that knocking was your return because pain has no gender its seeking ways of counterpoint slim branches on the window wispy enough getting through the social veneer of a card house teeter your breath held within mine from the firebox the slow drumming still so young all wings … Continue reading Wuthering
a Powerful Owl prevaricates
Now falls a night made rich for haste the autumn moon all coin of blank, counterfeit as the mercy of silence. To have this place in dream by day beneath the hush of slowness beating, a wing’s pause drawing of patience. Call forth an art all blood in making to dive now potent a span’s … Continue reading a Powerful Owl prevaricates
Jazz Festival Inverloch, Labour Day Weekend
Days flip verso a large bass floating, scored over the inlet breeze pianists compete for what’s left of cool. Notes are transfused eternal, the flamenco trio has a new language George Michael to a different beat. The sky draws sail boards in bluesy clefs the old blokes banter in sets, so familiar they change key … Continue reading Jazz Festival Inverloch, Labour Day Weekend
The Hideout, reprise
When death called uninvited I remembered buried outlaw long necks of beer as tubers under the deign of hydrangeas splashing irises beside the straggling hibiscus a fallen rainbow entreating rain the returning blue chequer a flap in the tree house cornflowers adrift (Margaret Olley 'Afternoon with corn flowers').
Almost Shipwrecked on Byzantium
I There will always be better words waiting. Hewn from the territory of loss, erupted from joy at love’s motive - refusing entry – at calling down, straying from the paddock/ crunching as stubble, caught out, irresistible in the turning key’s summons wandering beyond polite conversation, holding down sheet music blowing past the snatch to … Continue reading Almost Shipwrecked on Byzantium