Lullaby comes for the spirit | Despite those complex towns | strafed over autumn by repeated showers | and a sound of planes | fire and smoke where there was education | shopping | the public | arena | lullaby comes | Despite the cannibal | mother | the alpine | patriarchs | cave-dwelling | memories | hairpin | bends the spirit | climbs | and descends | and climbs again | in a Bianchi concerto | lullaby | comes | Put down the items of your theory | lay aside your passions | both grandiloquent and modest | cling, if you like, if you must, to the names, but you must | when lullaby | comes | release and be released by them | poor Ontario | Mesut the Graceful | golden-loined | Aphrodite | and Hermes, the silver-lined | Tipped out | like excess wine, the voice | with its queue of migrants | its infinite portion | of the obsolete | quietens | small goblins fold back their spiny ears and wait | for the belovéd hand | to stroke their heads | the bedraggled numerals | bob and spin | as muddle enters | and ether more | slowly | stirs | for lullaby is here | the spirit | finds all flames | stripped from the fire | water without moisture | a darkness | beyond moon or sun | and the dead | at last | for the first | time | truly | begin to die | For spirit bows to the sweet | far-off music | silence ends in | Night | comes to sleep | and sleep | comes for lullaby

I woke suddenly, and wasn’t sure how much time had passed | You were beside me, naked in the August heat, curled up, your back turned | I was in place | where else could I be? | The parameters, I mean, were drawn | the poem settled to its measure | the lyric contracted to a point | it needed to illustrate | Fortunately, the future | with its unfazed mystique | seemed there, as ever, to bail us out | to prevent the egos’ boat | from foundering in our drowning waves | of mirrors | Evening was approaching, another day | passed without | coming to harm | or to achievement, either | I found myself | gazing for ages at a random detail | of the floating ruins | a column with stylised acanthus and palms

 


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)

Advertisements