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7th
November
2006
November
2006
Molluscs bop my underside
Delve he without teeth
in matter swerve through
the hag, a road was here
to points unswerving,
flesh veils from rough
bushes sprung: snow
a skin warm, foreign
vault of bronze folds
impetuous asylum walls
measured to a minute
buzzing sooty bodies summon
beasts flaky, free & frigid
corpses gasping calling gasping at
the roadside strewn with heavy births
given but not their own
Rest, contagious, slips
of honesty on a whetstone where
molluscs bop my underside
afloat on her pale hill, above
diamond needles in formation, wheeling & dreaded
I love the assonance and rhythm at work here and in Mr Autio’s other work. Sharp diction and delivered with great skill at the various readings.