LIFE AT A STONE'S SPEED
THE DIP OF THE HORIZON
TIME OUT OF MIND
BREAKDOWN
Have you ever strayed
SPARE CHANGE
I.
Already browning leaves
bask in focussed warmth:
the definition of sunlight
held in hard-edged shadows,
which slant bars of night
across the furrows.
I squeeze the most
out of time remaining:
removal of crumbs
from arcane elevations
with dampened fingers, thumbs,
and expectations.
Leaving is the absent word
on a torn page:
smoke in a blind spot
where one can’t be found -
trusting footsteps do not
follow you around.
II.
Taking a breather:
I turn the block to its corner, and back.
Retracing routes to a dead reckoning
of climb-downs, compromises,
and short-lived triumphs.
To stay is to swim,
to drink the poisoned river.
Limbs stretch, pull, kick and glide,
emerging silent for a year
beyond the point of no return.
Catching traffic at a halt,
I scuttle by, green lighted.
Place a coin at the bedside
should the ferryman not hear my rhyme.
Always there’s a fare to pay.
III.
Hung up on tenterhooks
a wet blanket of doubt dries:
the masks of here and there,
two-faced, waiting on a word.
Leaf-fall as rain soaks away.
The shouted team-talk of six-a-sides –
lunch hours played out
in swearing, sweating echoes.
Parking meters promise
“free use of unexpired time”;
I plot reappearances
to the rhythm of wheel on rail,
and doze in grubby compartments.
Sunlight and shadowed passages –
the clear-cut choicelong made, long unrealised.
IV.
Pressure on a button then,
for drawn-out if becomes when
in the blink of a moment.
Familiar faces, soon no more
than unsharp recollection,
count these eight years down to days.
I am my own dissector,
measuring mixed sentiment
with a metre length ribbon;
And seeking some balanced view,
which neither labels nor betrays,
is mere shift I’m working through.
Sliced strand by strand, the stale knots
loosen; expose my parting shots:
Home again. Whole again. Home.
viii - xi . 2000