Friday, February 1, 2013

Gerry Loose

from fault line



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



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


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



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



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



aside from us
who will celebrate
shoreline’s windfall


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



honeybees at the ivy balls
sweetness giving messages
back at the hive dancing
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



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



as they wish
we don’t want
what they wish
language is language
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



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


who sees



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



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
from under deep snow
Bellis perennis
said before
to be said again
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.

1 comment:

  1. ...from fault line. want the rest of it now... I googled the interesting...googling that too