Gerry Loose

from fault line

 
LXXVII

his morning’s transecting flights 
two silkwinged swans
above a platefat mallard
below a seaplane


↑↓


ending sentience
country sports
for pleasure
not the oldest
way here


 
LXXVIII

it’s 6am October
an invention
moon’s high
not shot down
breath forming inside
my body


↑↓


every farmer a connoisseur
of rusty machinery
ploughshares
chased by rainbows
sifting foliage


 
LXXX

all the little cancers sing
in the sheepfold
More Power is dead
in the sheiling
Bikini Frank
is dead
move over lyric


↑↓


another Sunday
we sit
baking the word
of god
on the steel hull
gulls yell
a’ ghràidh


 
LXXXII

officers cleansing
anarchic habitats
their real enemy
Flora being goddess 


↑↓


shorten the road for me
he was ever a child
as if for those who went before
& then the boys jump
feet first
into the stars of
blackened sky


 
LXXXIII

aside from us
who will celebrate
shoreline’s windfall
apples


↑↓


it’s only the foxes
in waterside herbs
& herself
sits out
looking for
cosmic debris
perseids


 
XCI

honeybees at the ivy balls
sweetness giving messages
back at the hive dancing
numbers
litter of pollen


↑↓

 
to be unseen on waters
invisible against ripe
wheat fields
why kingfishers are blue
goldfinches gold
at borders if I had a gun
would I tell you
the correct answer
do not joke
about bombs while
in an airport
it is an offence


 
XCII

there’s only one river
& we & all always in it
chaffinch crowd
at fallen rowan berries
still they refuse to read
we have different texts
sometimes they speak of me
of men with arms
warning to their kind
a psalter lies
open at this page
there is only one river
fieldfares speak//sing
of the same rowan
when all’s clear
of the buzzard
when she’s gone


↑↓


an ecological niche
for colonisers of verb languages
poetry is
to be repaid
spontaneous song
mycorrhizal cainnt
in darkness
between soil particles
then Cantharellus cibarius
chanterelles


 
XCVII

incandescence
as they wish
we don’t want
what they wish
nevertheless
language is language
spoken
a response
a condemnation
more than despair
to be deleted
the hare tells us
what the lurcher knows


↑↓


what directs
the sun
what directs your heart
what directs
this fusion
of both
of all


 
XCVIII

once there were 5 hares loupin
preoccupation with numbers
a retreat from enormity
an occupation
how to meet force


↑↓


who sees


 
XCIX

then naming what
being the opposite of
war let’s call it
not a wish to oppose
but to circumvent perhaps
to find roots (we know it’s fear)
is it as he said
not peace
maybe then an obliquity the dog
sitting on the back
of the shepherd’s vehicle
to grasp failure
& wring a damp success
not enough


↑↓


what arises
empty of what
sometimes a woman
sometimes a man


 
C

yet again it’s morning
the sun comes up over that hill
the wild cock pheasant
who frequents this yard is busy
at grains the hens have overlooked
with their glassy stare
as children let’s begin
eyes ears nose & throat
lips tongue hands & feet
dance my little laddy
the shepherd takes a stick my child
the farmer takes a plough
the soldier takes a gun my dear
& then he shoots your daddy


↑↓


consciousness delayed
deferred
from under deep snow
shining
Bellis perennis
said before
to be said again
beyond
the always beautiful
beyond together
beyond while still here
no eye ear nose tongue body or mind
no form sound smell taste touch 
no extinction


↑
↓

Obiter dicta:



so I’ve heard

© Morven Gregor




Gerry Loose is a poet, writer (and land-artist) who works primarily with subjects from the natural world, as well as the world of geo-politics. His work is often to be found inscribed on wood and stone in natural landscapes, parks and botanic gardens as well as on the page. Among his most recent publications are Printed on Water: New and Selected Poems (Shearsman, 2007) and that person himself (Shearsman, 2009). His awards include the Creative Scotland Award, the Kooneen Säätiö Award, and the Herman Kesten Award.