People trudge out to a sad harmonium,
Plates leave the kitchen like buses.
I want to get on:
Watch people and the view change -
Shrub plains to tall trees,
Who can reach the highest?
Birds with sharp wings, air watch out!
Contours like a woman´s body,
Or sharp, jagged, crumbling, subtle,
Barren, fertile, all a blur like a Turner
Or too grande to see the top and bottom at once.
Landscape, manscape, icecream exchanged for coins through window.
Expectant shopping bags chatter excitedly in the breeze,
Disappointed animals that came in threes,
Hands that lay wrestless about the knees -
Going to church with a runny nose,
Contented eyes that follow the prose
Of paths and pleasant gardens;
Tin rooves that do the job;
Fruit waiting at the roadside like orphans.
A happy mess of hedgerows,
All neighbours here.
Man and matter all getting along.
The mid afternoon sun.
The fear of loneliness,
Like flatulence in a crowded room.
The fear of failure,
Fingers groping, frantic in the gloom.
Let them rest, the eyes adjust:
Tongues that capture flies when they must;
Eagles and angels and brilliant things in brilliant times.
Ostriches in a sandstorm of infinitescimal everything,
Addicted to the impossibility of perfection,
So worth striving for.
The inadequecy of words.
Of everything but a glance or feeling.
No comments:
Post a Comment