Thursday, February 1, 2018

Kit Kelen #761 - I found myself inside a poem

761
I found myself inside a poem


must have followed my nose

and wondered which way was up

words all around
hard to see a thing at first
but then a cameo

someone opened a window
and the breeze was as it had come

I was to play an adjective

a certain stiffness as of effigy

nothing out there but landscape - sublime!
spirits to visit!

out of the everything written before
deep romantics in the gorges

every word for itself

a kind of haiku calm
and the moment passed
then it was on for young and old
there were pictures all around inside
and mirrors hidden

I wasn't mentioned by name
but I knew
to find a way back
on the piano

I myself
had a voice to throw

I must have dug
or I could not be here

luckily lunchbox, batteries, headlamp
they gave me some old miners' tools
a thermos of the good stuff
suggested a direction for possible light
and I came with a canary

flippers for the flood

mostly though the incantations
muttered under

there was a fire
and I parted the sea
trim here
and a little pluck
a kind of dodgem progress

every curse a word too

so many Christmases are in it
and the wept are chin up
air is bracing

if any heavenly bodies show
this has been pre-arranged

though much under breath
more under word than 

thus coral came
and a household bleach
would give you line
but a net hauls more

hold this

scratchy windows
through which a real world
I saw the talentless well paid

some of the screaming were naked
some starved
for being born
just far enough away

a lovely tune took me from that
I was tended by the stream
such little creatures yet to name
I might have given birth

marred drafts
much crossing out

I held the bones to me
and gave the sun salute

we swam as if a sea were next
and I lay down with Bex

then here's some best friend snout
with antiseptic in saliva
who's a filthy beast?

little pickup in the tempo
that's towards conclusion
or you've not noticed yet?

arresting me, all sorts of questions --
(prospect of critical response)
'what the poem part of?'
'from where to where?'
'who sold?'
'how much?'

there was never a need
to come to my senses
I might have been fine tuned away

still wanted
but without reward

you've been looking all this while
for one long gone?

why naturally, I'm chuffed

you'll still find me right here today
think of it as a kind of retirement

the whole thing's hollow
drums to the tap

like the story
of the picture
of the bed
re-told
till you're so tired
you lie down in it
and dream
always
this present
tense

1 comment:

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.