from To Home For

 

3

London ­
this city

threshold of light

engulfed in a shadow
of the dark
wandering off

water clots
wrap the brown roofs white

thin thaws nip
the foot off
the bank

the arms of the bridge­

fear it's formless
and of spaces

the smoothed ground sliding
to choose a home which
just spins where it's pointing

­ where else
to walk back through

but through
here ­

words covered her
like flakes

soft ­ so white small
all light padding all
over her

 

4

snow cloaked
dawn dust rain
lime terrain the towers (Westminster)
watch the clock seen standing

there as one stands
hard hands spread heaving
thick foam yet not bent a strong arm without telling
anything either

beneath the storm
shrouds of
green snow stain
the flat blade

yes a green slice
of time (a

numeral instance
for

what
the face

shows)

space / sound
our job

to find the ground
which flakes

between them -
(as in words
worlds where
but to live?)

 

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