Tuesday, 13 November 2012

November Fauna

(Wapley Hill Fort, November) 
                                                           
Froth-frayed wings
Fizz against the light
November butterfly
Watch as they watch:
Human eyes
Cat eyes
An instinct for beauty
An instinct for capture
Movement enrapture 
Winged Psyche
Or prey
The split meaning
Embossed in our DNA
The cat will grab that bird in the bush
Alone, I walk 
Deeper into autumn
Startled by starlings
Unchained to the obvious
I'm balancing on the slippery
Scaled back
Of a giant red bream
Carried away by mossy claws
And invisible,
Birdless wings.


The Gun Carriage

(By Gub, London)

Police on motor-cycle mounts
Semaphore with shrill acoustic whistles.
The Aldwych’s Saturday bustle freezes,
As the London’s tourist infantry step back,
Survey Fleet Street’s empty horizon, agog.
A flat autumn city silence.
Empty trees.
A parchment road – folded in residue of orange and green
Littered leaves.
No turning back.
A slow rumbling thunder
Hooves on tarmac, growing harder.
Cupping the tapestried street
Like a thousand arrhythmic shells.
Then the coarse jangle of harness, of bridles,
Leathered cases. Men on the move.
Bright in scarlet and plumes, huge white equestrian
Beasts – a pageant synthesis in sound, smacking the ground – thud, whack and judder.
Magnificent – behind the ranks of pinioned capes, the flooding flow of crimson colour, the gun carriage wheels crack, wood on steel.
Towards the Strand this glorious phalanx of man, beast and monstrous machine rumbles – on their faces, the grim determined jaws of purpose, driving forth with fixed intent.
Tomorrow the salute.
At 11 – the same hour, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month.
Remembrance.
How could history ever deceive, or dupe memory – with such an unforgettable passing?

Sunday, 11 November 2012

Universe and Chips

(By Gub)

Life passes through us 
driven by some cryptic calling, 
searching for worthier vessels, 
less fragile containers, 
that are more robust. 
Magnetized by deep faith and an insatiable need to trust, 
the infinite force can't rely on humans
to fulfill it's destiny - 
better leave it to more able beings in some corner of
the universe - 
creatures that don't rely on sex, crosswords, politics or
curiosity about their origins -
blind, dumb, sequins 
stars with indefinite
radiation 
I bet that's where God is stashing his chips.

Now

(By Gub)

Now you are now
The second run
The bullet spent
The blasted gun
The air breathed
The moment spun
You are now
Until Now
Is done.

November 11

(By Gub)

I have passed the middle of my life
bathed in light,
midway between the rising
and setting suns.
Your body, my clock, each hour 'glass'

Shins

(By Gub)

Articulate
We bend least
Where we need a joint
The sensitive shin
Being a case in point
But mastery of the universe
Man cannot reappoint
The 'shins of the father'
Neither reanoint!

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Shinbone


(HBC)

I palmed the torch
Cocked my head up to the stars
Sheep moved
Shuffling avalanche
Across a field
A black dog
Dissolved and reformed
As twinset bouncing dots of light
The universe hung over me
Detached
An oversized bell-jar
Inside,
The acute impact with life
A kick in the shinbone
As I was learning to play