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Friday, 9 August 2013

A first fragment of a new poem . . .


Swarms

arm brushing arm, pressure cotton skin fleet pleasure; 
roaring under notice and warmth, shining, in hair. 
Moving, hard ground muffled through soles
and socks; aching calves, a rhythmic mist of sound
rising and then falling. A rhythmic fire sound rising
sustaining a lifting and a vein of anger. Red dominating 
with black; juxtapositions flap and ripple. 
A tickling, barely perceptible, above an ear, 
inside a hairline; a hand touching,
palm down and fully, a damp woollen weave; 
a detected simultaneous drifting of fag smoke. 



Cold and constant multiplicity of running water over fingers rubbing a soft smooth spoon.
Light flaring and a warm metallic taste, a smell of tea, of rotten damp, of warming. 



Binding purity mad goose he was better I didn't realise
give you the option hub      bub      There's a mental 
fucking cyclist going to get himself killed. 


Making its rapid way a pleasure agitation easy tumescence sniffing a breeze
against a muscular intellect & fires burn in the collision as another raises 
an eyebrow in cool question at molten justifications  hammered out
sucking nicotine & muted grainy cinematic desire a beautiful misery & feeling 
fat & disgusted & grinning satyrism blurred unfocussed vitalism beautiful
light after rain astride a saddle edged with anxiety about the time 

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