Sunday, January 22, 2012

A forest of swaying trees

A forest of swaying trees
leading the eye down to a shore
of threatening sea

swollen and given up to winds
and currents and the saline influences
that uphold the clouds in unbelievable motion

that one day could lift the opening off of time
display the working of our buildings
and make us say or scream

what lies or overblown proverbs fill up
this atmosphere that will not settle
that no storm can clean

Grant Duncan, 15.1.12

Someone called You

I’d call this distemper
that growls and wrangles on the line

almost canine
And I’m tied up all day

from unspeakable eye opening
until the silent light goes out

And you asked me my secret
so you wouldn’t have to know it

or to see what I do
Stirring words

Running the treadmill
Charming flavours

No need to call
Just inquire inside

and finger the words
They shiver shine and run

So call them up again
and stalk them in the streets

Loiter outside shops
until chance bumps and jumps a track

and labouring metaphors
shuttle jauntily down hills

people settle for trying on
something new

pay up
and wander off

almost forgetting that someone
called You

Grant Duncan, 18.12.11