stev enw a li ng
4poem s
ELEGY FOR A GONE SELF He’s nowhere everywhere drawing comparison with air tomorrow he will arrive cosmic conclusions drive phillipics on the street brilliant cloud inhabitants alight we saw visions at night and never went to bed I think I can remember I the time he fell out with simplicity born out of poetry two minds at once nested in his hair needed to be explained not on paper but in speech bubbles will not be spilled out this is how he haunted his own soul with head down the whole rest of the world uncomfortable the high price of variousness among the clutter a big yes to it all grasping hands with a firm grip into this air now gone with as few words as this content specific radio hiss
FROM A LOST MS (FOR ALEX) [title illeg.] meld into the skyline & wait[ ]don’t [ ] speak watch ships bear cargoes of baux[ ]ugees the time you walked [home] with him dark streets [ ] and the rain plastic islands afloat on the [illeg. ] his leaving disrupts you lamps of ships signal through [illeg.] someone hauling heavy objects through [ ] is that him my head the world is suddenly vast with [ ] [illeg.] or the moon or the sun is that him to show all it has of the [ ] deep ] it could still be an accident [you] talked poetry) (courage they may [illeg.] him yet[ that uncle on the sideboard never met how trust the world [ ] to resolve to a fixity [ is that [ you carry [
] went travelling ] never came back ] a single exposure
to the edge [illeg.] wind is the only reality never knew him well still [illeg. (crossings out ] Earth trips [ ] into glare ] through the hole in your [illeg.]
Political Sonnet I want a hung parliament; but are there enough lampposts along the Embankment? Let’s get bungalowed, forget the whole thing, go to bed early, wake up to party like it’s 1939. I’m trying to find the words to describe this whirl of rage: light dusting of ash in Iceland says it’s time for change: Mister Banker, meet madam guillotine, who will be collecting expenses for her second basket round the back of the peerage awarded to the ambulance chasing industry. Robespiere haunts the Mile, before pocketing his bonus: today’s special: embattled warrior arms himself in readiness.
STILL BIRD ON GOOSE ISLAND the remains of a picnic in advance of refreshment “when you’re young and in love” arrives
as it did last year
new air in their sails swans arrive separately at a period of exploration blue shoes circling the boating lake a heron stood hours on one leg entrances into relationship as a flower’s green inwardness unclenches on the lawn