Kataskopos

 

Through the sky

My own current cuts

Red

Like paint from a lunatic's brush.

I am in the midst

A mist

Of greens and blues.

Below, the land I have dreamed

Rubbed and cut at all my life

Blasted into revelation,

Sleeping now

Like a worn out lover.

 

Hurtle, tumble flesh and bone

Into the air Atlantic foam.

Into my heart stabs ancient myth.

Red stains the treacherous cliff.

Come with me, hold my hand,

Into the clouds and home.

 

Off shore the sea brings in those

Toys we kids have yet to play.

We are now as then

Never the stop creators

Always the makers.

The shoreline is littered with detritus:

Soup spoons and feathers,

Rear mirrors and broken heels.

Towards Zennor a plastic bag fills itself with Cornish air

And disappears toward the spanking new.

 

Hurtle, tumble flesh and bone

Into the air Atlantic foam.

Into my heart stabs ancient myth.

Red stains the treacherous cliff.

Come with me, hold my hand,

Into the clouds and home.

 

I have dug before

From the hacked, haunted earth

A cast of black-faced players

Emerging thirsty for air and beer.

I have touched their tales

With my bristle free brush

By jamming the handle between cracks

In the Cornish rock but now

As I come into land

I am tossed like a mailbag-

Whooshing

Wishing for sand

Not this tough foreign turf.

 

 

Hurtle, tumble flesh and bone

Into the air Atlantic foam.

Into my heart stabs ancient myth.

Red stains the treacherous cliff.

Come with me, hold my hand,

Into the clouds and home.

 

Patients surround me

Like uncomfortable cats.

I have just a little

Pain in my back.

Pushing my head into the pillow

I feel its silent swallow

Pulling like a thermal at my tail.

Warm air is rising toward the

Yellow ceiling peeling

Revealing white.

I thrust my toes into

The bed’s inhospitable corners.

I have reached the land’s end

A promontory battling

Like reason with the night.

 

Hurtle, tumble flesh and bone

Into the air Atlantic foam.

Into my heart stabs ancient myth.

Red stains the treacherous cliff.

Come with me, hold my hand,

Into the clouds and home.

 

And then I am again above

Watching,

The morning break

As my eyes closed, wake.

Is this a heaven of the imagination?

I am a winged insect peering

From a crack in the ceiling.

A nurse sails past,

Like a good ship,

Navigating ward seven.

Sorry, serene she stops and

Covers with a white sheet

A dead, familiar face

Like an engulfing wave.