Tuesday, April 28, 2009

amateur cartography.

he held my face in his hands like a first-time explorer grips the page:
turning it this way &that, up &down, read it left to right.
he followed the lines with his fingers
to the corners of my grinning cheeks &crinkled eyes.
stared intently into the newly formed lakes,
hot brown on soggy paper.
sighed, marked the spot with red marker and
gently started to crumple the map.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

little bird.
any one only knows the girl
with the wrist-watch
punch-stained lips.


it`s quite possible
she`s a
than that.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

The Thought-Fox

I imagine this midnight moment`s forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock`s loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.

Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:

Cold, delicately as the dark snow
A fox`s nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly,
Coming about its own business

Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox,
It enters the dark hole of the head,
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.

-Ted Hughes.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

the trouble with apologising

is this:
he was walking along-
side the road, kicking up
with every step,
holding a bouquet
of home-
redred roses
to bring back
to his wife,
whom he has known for at least
who wears a gold band on her left hand,
even when she scrubs soapy spoons.
Who, truthfully, have been very good to each other.
they`re getting a little tired of being so good.