« Katie Condon | Contents | Meredith Blankinship »

Alexander Booth

Unblooming

 

There is a numbness

Numbing nothing     

 

In the lightless swallowed


Whole     one long winter, one

Word: I want

 

Like mad the heart hurt

 

Unblooming      

Days’ blue work of silence

 

A flicker, fear, then fail

 

Assaulting all & seized by every

Stilllessness    

 

Bone-dry plateau, haunted call

 

 

Vigil

 

What hopes were

   Had to 

Hear what whispered

 

Flight furthered by which fall

 

Long evening lasts

In the birds’ blue throats echo

Back: all grieve

 

 

Natura morta

 

Grief’s winter-like gnaw

Was numb, a knuckle

& beauty in shards

 

Fra Angelicoed at your feet

You saw: a frost white line

Bronchiole to hill, to

Time; you heard: the days

 

In wind, at the edge

The ashen word

Reignite the world    gold    addio

 

 

 

Black hole tarantella

 

A Mediterranean timor mortis

   Maybe? Trying to

Bring back what’s past, another

 

     What’s about to pass

Days all too quick, the late year’s dark

     Pastels, the dove’s

Top-heavy bob & the dry

                        tangled whorls

Of wisteria, dull palms   

But inside

After the wine, the books, fire out & ash

 

              Every night up from out of

The cracks it comes calling, as the ghosts do

No easy tune, strings taut, then the spinning

Dreams distancing    faster, then faster still

 

 

*

 

These poems to a great degree are mourning songs & were conceived, as are all of my poems, with a certain idea of miniatures in mind; that is: inside and outside combined & a broken frame. In addition, together with a certain palette of certain landscape, these particular poems follow a certain thread which could be named: the little light that escaped (& its still small voice).

 

« Katie Condon | Contents | Meredith Blankinship »