I was all bog and bits of islands,
my bird-heavy mane of reed
a river of lyrical russet,
a Celtic hunter slowing his currach
to the heartbeat of a wayward doe.
I grew wooden bridges and jetties,
ramparts and towers, cupped huts
and dirt roads. Smoke rose nightly
from the duels of swords and harps.
I sank heavier with merchants and markets,
cobblestones, cannons, kept alehouses then.
Top hats and summer umbrellas tilted
to soldiers and carriages. Oil street-
lamps lit stocks and paupers.
Men and metal stitched me whole.
Now I sleep with buses and pipes,
pylons and beggars reflected thrice in glass.
Mobile phones and mini-skirts flirt my name
while coffee-shop buskers point tourists to pavement art.
What will I not endure?
The Speed of Cat’s Eyes
His eco-ship purrs silver-smooth
past shores of bastard-amber stars,
chases the veined twist of tail-lights,
long spaces poised for sudden red.
Earth’s skin, spinning culture
at past the speed of sound
around its centre, skims the sun
many thousand miles per hour more.
He turns up his thoughts in stereo –
lick the cream from these lips honey –
sees movement from the passenger seat,
a reason to steer with his knees.
He stirs honey into chamomile,
skins up, scribbles a quatrain ending –
no hands, see? Her mirage smile,
her eyes that flicker. Her invisible fur.
“It would puzzle a monkey to climb that.”
Here’s hope for you seedling
as puzzles stretch into the air.
Pointes without question pry
spirals splay in the naked sun.
Come. Bonsai with me, Andean
behind this wall of glass
into a life of sculptured spaces
we’ll shape ourselves in shades of day
and deep in this forest of next
this breeze of silent words
you’ll teach me of slow motion
of a speck in the desert that waits for a single day
of cracks in Burren waterways
pollen lost in their vascular limestone
Weave me a puzzle Araucaria Araucana
answers must flower by summer
Copyright © Paul Casey 2012