come to the shore
to find love
has gone, even though
she said she'd be there
forever.
to find your love, a world, a stone,
richly veined with light sea moon
sparkling on the edge of a wave
with mineral green, elemental gold
the light dissolving, degrading
threadbare as a faint grey line.
the A star of your heart
marked down finally as a cheat.
An old man collapsed on the floor,
his huddled body a crescent of shock,
his cane, flung to the side,
tastes an exalted sense of freedom.
~~~
I pitched my life in shadow. And out, out in the swinging dark I saw my debts accumulate. The long moments, folded in my pocket. If I had one word for you it would be ancient, indecipherable, obscure, a word whose meaning is lost.
Tinsel.
gaudy, showy, superficial, valueless. 1575
tinsel.
the losing of something; the sustaining of harm, damage or detriment; loss.
tinsel.
it will flame out, like shining from shook foil.
~~~
'the tables of the feast
all cleared; mice among the grain, and dogs
but few people anywhere.
There's ice between the cobblestones
where drink was spilt - some scraps of bread,
chicken bones, that's it...
Fires sputter here and there but there is little light
and the ground beyond the square
is frozen hard as iron.'
That's it? It passed you by and you missed it. Was it meant to be that way? There you are, unspoken, unspoken for. I hold all your names in my hand. Only this? Time flies in both directions, making the hours seem long, the days whittled down to a stumbling moment, a word, a glance. I don't want to hear from you, don't want to see your eyes. There is something I can't remember; it is like the homelessness in your voice. A rare skill to be able to unpick words and find a letter, 'K', a bone, in your teeth.
I come to the shore again and see myself clearly, or my shadow-life. We sit in the car becalmed and silent, like the first evening star, shivering, with nothing to say. A formal ghost sits next to me. We strike up a conversation. A dead gull flies above us. He tells me how it will end, how it all began, how the light was torn, shredded, wrecked...
(words by Robin Robertson)
to find love
has gone, even though
she said she'd be there
forever.
to find your love, a world, a stone,
richly veined with light sea moon
sparkling on the edge of a wave
with mineral green, elemental gold
the light dissolving, degrading
threadbare as a faint grey line.
the A star of your heart
marked down finally as a cheat.
An old man collapsed on the floor,
his huddled body a crescent of shock,
his cane, flung to the side,
tastes an exalted sense of freedom.
~~~
I pitched my life in shadow. And out, out in the swinging dark I saw my debts accumulate. The long moments, folded in my pocket. If I had one word for you it would be ancient, indecipherable, obscure, a word whose meaning is lost.
Tinsel.
gaudy, showy, superficial, valueless. 1575
tinsel.
the losing of something; the sustaining of harm, damage or detriment; loss.
tinsel.
it will flame out, like shining from shook foil.
~~~
'the tables of the feast
all cleared; mice among the grain, and dogs
but few people anywhere.
There's ice between the cobblestones
where drink was spilt - some scraps of bread,
chicken bones, that's it...
Fires sputter here and there but there is little light
and the ground beyond the square
is frozen hard as iron.'
That's it? It passed you by and you missed it. Was it meant to be that way? There you are, unspoken, unspoken for. I hold all your names in my hand. Only this? Time flies in both directions, making the hours seem long, the days whittled down to a stumbling moment, a word, a glance. I don't want to hear from you, don't want to see your eyes. There is something I can't remember; it is like the homelessness in your voice. A rare skill to be able to unpick words and find a letter, 'K', a bone, in your teeth.
I come to the shore again and see myself clearly, or my shadow-life. We sit in the car becalmed and silent, like the first evening star, shivering, with nothing to say. A formal ghost sits next to me. We strike up a conversation. A dead gull flies above us. He tells me how it will end, how it all began, how the light was torn, shredded, wrecked...
(words by Robin Robertson)
2 comments:
reposting on 54voices....this is perfect, oh and hi b. I made you some fresh cinnamon rolls....hope you're not dieting these days.
Nikki, there you are! what a pleasant surprise!!
And? how are you? where have you been? what have you been up to?
fresh cinnamon rolls???
Tempt me not, woman [he says in his sternest possible voice]
:-))
No, not dieting but have started exercising (after watching a bit of your video). I so hope everything is going well for you.
Take care,
b.
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