Friday, December 24

I see a ring hanging above me. It quivers and hangs in a loop of light.
I see a slab of pale yellow spreading away until it meets a purple stripe.
I see a globe hanging down in a drop against the enormous flanks of some hill.
Islands of light are swimming on the grass. They have fallen through the trees.
A shadow falls on the path like an elbow bent.
The stalks are covered with harsh short hairs and drops of water have stuck to them.
The grey shelled snail draws across the path and flattens the blades behind him.
And burning lights from the window-panes flash in and out on the grasses.
Stones are cold to my feet. I feel each one, round or pointed, seperately.
The back of my hand burns but the palm is clammy and damp with dew.
The beast stamps; the elephant with its foot chained; the great brute on the beach stamps.
The walls are cracked with gold cracks and there are blue, finger shaped shadows of leaves beneath the windows.
I am green as a yew tree in the shade of the hedge. My hair is made of leaves. I am rooted to the middle of the earth. My body is a stalk. I press the stalk. A drop oozes from the hole at the mouth and slowly, thickly grows larger and larger. Now something pink passes the eyehole. Now an eye-beam is slid through the chink. Its beam strikes me. I am a boy in a grey flannel suit. She has found me. I am struck on the nape of my neck. She has kissed me. All is shattered.

1 comment:

100hands said...

Did you write this, a?