Martin Corless-Smith

Flowes Forward

The choice has always been
Money? and we all are slowly
drained into for we have been
set up always as alternatively

Nothing or Something
its as close as we want to get
residue of fear frightened
into living giving up

Where here I come again
drip into house
bees against the window
slowly looking in

great forms moving in the darkness
the monoliths established in obscurity
some ancient purpose or some modern art
(doing something rather for its own sake)
to be something out of all these parts

how long shall I weep in the city of my forebears
how long shall I visit the false city of my making
I crawl between acts
and fret at the smallness in weakening light

there are trees along the bank
that reach down under the river
and how far above is their view
though their green eyes shudder and drink

we cannot believe our lives
or even
our disrobing

constellations upon the river surface
upon the insect eyes
the foliage invariably stricken
wheels seen through the leaves

a stranger crucified
fish marvelous endure
twice in two days a dream
two nights in a row this aisle

enamoured of a cloud
produced into his hand
things not away
a terrible viscosity

iinstead of 'afterwards' instead of 'ask for him'
my sixty dollars buys
boiled woolen jacket
a bush erupts in finches

an unknown word FLASHES
mixing bowl remind you
I fail to understand

something so high that looked so small
has fallen to Earth and is Giant
A lot of people are talking
mildew upon one acre of corn

it is a kingdom; not only a house
if thine could carry thee so low
as to think that thou wert become some other this
a fish, a dogge that had fed upon thee


Mutability Chorus


© 2003 Electronic Poetry Review