Aye, aye

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Aye, aye
(8 April 2019)

I am my eye
this eye
my left eye

rapid heartbeat
shallow breathing
tautness in chest
this is all about
my eye

frozen with gel
disinfected
bathed in iodine
it nestles in a nest
loitering with intent
within a blue tent
filled with oxygen

three bright lights
surgeon’s fingers
surgical instruments
moving shapes
this eye my eye
sees them draw near
then fade away

machines hum
laser beams bite
extract then implant
more liquids
face patted dry
dark glasses appear
smiles all around

“Oh my eye
and
Betty Martin!”

this eye
is not an eye
because you see it
it’s an eye
because it
once more sees you

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Paradise Lost

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Paradise Lost
(1667 AD)

nobody answers
bewitched by your knock
ultimate betrayal
front door locked

cold finger elegies
devils ascending
rhythmic drumming
rain descending

knock again louder
nobody’s replies
ahoy there the house
nobody’s inside

memories flutter
life’s dead butterflies
doorstep-marooned
look around take stock

ghosts watch from windows
sockets open in shock
that key in your pocket
might open the lock

a mystical place
between heaven and earth
land of my fathers
house of my birth

Ogmore-by-Sea

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Ogmore-by-Sea
(1960 AD)

white stone its castle
tumbled into ruin
stones in the river bed
mirrored its image
wind-broken ripples
picture fragmented

mud flats and rocks
stretch out horizontal
distant the sea
Severn mud an obstacle
no swimmers out there
where tides twist and pull

rock bathing instead
wind-whipped bare bodies
blasted with sand
skimpy the clothing
bikinis and pants
intrepid the wearers
breathless young girls
Welsh voices on the wind
always the wind
across rock across mud

dinosaurs walked here
left tracks in that mud
metamorphosed now
into fossil and rock

breeze tickles the nostrils
gulls batter the ears
salt stings the tongue
life on the margin
a bargain a gift
sweet in my memory
her kiss on my lips

Comment: I have no pictures of Ogmore (except in my mind). You’ll have to make do with St. Andrews, also by the sea. My thanks go out to David Watts for reminding me of my childhood in Wales. So many memories came twitching back. I went regularly to Ogmore with one of my school friends and his family. This was while I was still in the sixth form in school … a long time ago … but I remember it well.

Tara Pine

 

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Tara Pine
(1770 / 1977 AD)

maritime jack pine
arm-waving
declamation
sonnet to wild growth
a wilderness now

lop-sided
forest church
spired with birds
crows’s nest
crowning savage
extravagance

radical disorder
flustered
clicking needles
clustered
knitting the wind

salted the air
old man’s beard
sprouting fresh bristles
old salt sea salt

“ill fares the land
to hastening ills a prey”
without a helping hand
to point the way

each broken limb
an olive branch extended
scorched earth policy
salt-sown earth

Nightmares

 

 

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Nightmares
(1797 AD)

coming from nowhere
plucked from nothing
colored vowels
a child’s first alphabet

dark recesses
descending
invading
night’s starless
unenlightened mind

silent owls
flit in and out
predatory beaks
claws clutching
calling for skull
doors to open

sticky silk
this spider-spun
substance clutches
clings like plastic
gluing eyelids
shadowy lives
dance on walls
night’s drugged
dream cave

endless the gangplank
stretched over
troubled waters
reason’s dream
producing monsters
until dawn brings
its swift release

Tangled Garden

 

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Tangled Garden
(1916 AD)

indoor daffodils
drink water
dosed with chemicals
survive in a vase
refuse to crumple
won’t furl their flags

outside
sunshine and shade
Cape Daisies Peonies
Sunflowers
Black-eyed Susan
threading her colored ribbons
through butterflies
and Bees Balm

towering the Hollyhock
seeded by a surprise wind
coming in from nowhere

weeds crowd together
vox populi
these dandelions
beloved of the gods
ubiquitous
totally indestructible

Copperopolis

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Copperopolis
(1717 / 1804)

mountains of the moon
lunar landscapes
lunatic fringes
mercury madness
running through brains

scabs picked
wounds running raw
skin blotched red
eyes blurred
twitching

wait a hundred years
grass might grow back
earth might give flowers
bay waters might flow free

my grandfather coughs
his lungs up
bit by bit

he’ll never again know
the scent of flowers
taste oysters from the bay
smell sea-fresh air

Waste Knot

 

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Waste Knot
(6th Century BC)

finger-nails crack
red sealing wax
liberating gathering
knotted parcel string

broken finger nails
hard scarlet chips
blood flash-frozen
beaded on blade

underground
clawing for clues
damp walled
this cave-walk
distant the exit
thread leading out

reef knots slip knots
sheep-shanks bowlines
bowlines-on-the-bight
tight he tied them
used them
to measure distance
to distance him from doom

behind him
the bull head
boisterous
bellowing him on

Dark Night

 

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Dark Night
(1577-1579 AD)

candlelight
stole the moon’s halo
moth sputtering to its death
this owl high-flying

a cat tears out
mouthfuls of hair
swallows
spits out a hairball
swallows
steal it for a nest

dish and spoon
dance
cats and dogs
rain golden
milky the way
earth’s
thirst is quenched

blind hands
deaf fingers
no longer deft
voices breaking
waves
an unstrung
guitar of sound

fire will one day
come to claim us all

Eight Deer

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Eight Deer
(1113 AD)

eight deer visit
my garden each night
they raid my feeders
capture my birdseed
lusting for gold
anything to keep out
this winter cold

raccoons
leave claw-marks
grubbing for grubs
dug up like donuts
circled on my lawn

who captures whom
when the full moon
descends from the sky
walks among men
making them mad

death by snow plow
snow-melt and crows
Eight Deer emerges
his sacrificed body
preserved on this page
and in salt snow