revenant

 

revenant 

 

Imago

slipping from the raft of a dream-life

clutching at water   struggling to find purchase

waking to a sound

a pulsing whirring sound somehow

a mix of the tick and sweep of a second hand

the squashed wind roar of a wind turbine’s blade

sensing the whoosh of it’s shadow

swoop across his eyelids

feeling time sluggish in his veins

the engine of his heart starting to turn over

all in his head   all in the mind

a resurrection

    

the stopped clock that never stops

but does so   not today

 

opens his eyes on the world again

it pours into him   a flood

filling him with light with weight

suddenly   surprisingly   clumsily   buoyant

he sees

his clothes undressed upon a chair by the bed

a skin to be worn    a skin to be shed

Pepper's ghost

 Pepper’s ghost (ATU 327A/DSM-IV)  

Once upon a time …

there’s a girl she’s lost a shoe she’s lost in a forest she’s a pocketful of breadcrumbs there’s a body in the oven uncooked raw she’s been to a ball dancing into the club she’s letting her hair down she’s tying it up it’s a ladder it’s a noose highly strung high and dry fast and loose she’s a beast to be kissed she’s a bargain being struck a clock striking midnight a deal not to be missed made for a match she’ll light them one by one she’s a promise of gold of blood on the sheets she’s in a passage of rites she’s a stepping stone a chicken bone a finger to be pricked an apple to be picked a bite to be taken a bag full of beans forsaken a tower to be climbed a property to be claimed she’s a name to be named  constructed deconstructed postmodernised and analysed  she’s a life to be lived in but the shoe that she’s found herself in doesn’t fit it           

mirror mirror on the wall where they all live happily ever after    after all

no longer there

 

no longer there 

 

it’s such a long journey to the other end of the sofa

he’d have to put his book down and crawl out of his bunker of cushions

climb over the TV and other defences

he’d have to pull himself out of this car crash

and swim to the surface

 

it’s such a long journey to the other end of the sofa

and there’s so much baggage clumsy and heavy

the terrain thick with roots and traps

and the map is worn thin and folded so

so that it falls apart in his fingers

 

it’s such a long journey to the other end of the sofa

that language tires stumbles into sleep

and he can’t read the invitation can’t even get it out of the envelope

of his pocket of air so thin here so steep the climb 

here beneath the weight of stars he tries to breathe

 

it’s such a long journey to the other end of the sofa

there are so many stations so much distance to cross

the compartment overheated overcrowded

the window busy reflecting inside and out

and arrival was never the point of his destination 

 

and maybe you are no longer there

immortality

immortality 

 

not forever

but long enough perhaps

that when she’s in her seventies

divorced or abandoned by death

and her kids have gone off

to live in those other lives

they too found by the roadside

a cheque will come

so there will be wood for the fire

a bottle of inexpensive sanguine Sauvignon

uncorked   a steak sizzling in the pan

a few cracked peppercorns a little cream

she’ll take a book down from a shelf

open it to this page

she’ll take a knife   and fork

and there’ll be blood in the sauce

she’ll raise the glass   and I’ll be there

just me and her       cheers

pixel

 

pixel

each morning

when the sky is opened

on that day’s blinding sun

on that night’s translucent moon  

a zillion stars hidden in daylight

    a one and all those noughts

are still shining in the closed cold silent dark

 

find one   choose one   just one

and nail it to your heart

open cloze

 

Imago fails the open cloze test    

 

a word

the word

the one word

just the one word

just the one just word

that would heal the wound

we're after us

we’re after us  

there is a window

the outside world is now all but occluded

branches of a tree   a small triangle of sky

a patch of darkness

 

we are inside

there is a construction of sunlight

fitted to the walls   laid across the floor

polygonal pieces in the puzzle

there is the mathematics of shadow

cornered   an algorithm of photons

 

the room is empty

there is no furniture

there are no curtains

there is nowhere to hide

there is   finally   no narrative

we can suppose a door

a way in   a way out  

 

there is a witness   spectators

those who see the geometry

of moment   of time   of light

of borders crossed   of life shelled

the shape of things    the symmetry

things that are lost   things that are held

Hopper  Sun in an Empty Room