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| Hyakuin
Renga |
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The
floor’s a place
for an outdoor feast
food in a basket
__a quick rub with
a dock leaf
__and all is well
yesterdays moon
still shining in the bowl
of her throat
__upside down
__pores not gills
too large for the pond
the carp circling
only one way
__the shadows beneath
__her eyes grow darker
a tongue wags in with
in that dress
you’d expect nothing less
__the small boys pee a row
__of zeros in the snow
urged on
the vicar steps
off the church tower
__goosewing
__into the harbour
oiled
cormorant
can never be cleaned
__the shop assistant eyes up
__stains on his jacket
dark archipelagos
and outlined islands
where they may go
__the honeymoon paid for
__by his parents
you’re always beautiful
muttered
to the daisies
__they bury the lamb
__in the half-light
spring’s broken
she shakes the watch
against her ear
__another spaceship enters
__the orbit of the moon
radios crackle
as an electric storm
kicks in
__bake the pears whole
__in sugar and red wine
the burn is brackish
a race of rust
and shed wool
__his beard unstuck
__we recognise Santa Claus
lost in the woods
Hänsel and Gretel
could only eat gingerbread
__growing up fast
__she slams the door
in the face of it
the waiter rolls
the dragon’s eyes
__looking down
__stairs can be dangerous
the elixir’s made
of coltsfoot wrapped in
butterbur leaves
__untie the ribbons
__on the Maypole
making for the open
two hares chase
across the down
__we stagger home
__for the love of Bowmore
sandy toed
shoes on our heads
wading tidal flats
__spun, spun, spun
__into a waltzer kiss
a line of light
traced onto sky
my head aches
__on the long flight east
__two orange dawns
these fried peaches
are they breakfast
or last night’s tea?
__first win of the season
__we follow the moon
cry of an owl
circling
whose hunting who?
__in the dark
__we almost felt the same
the differences
between our bodies
get less with age
__despite the bleeps
__we talk over everything
fuck this!
fuck that!
is all the walls say
__the new school
__ringed by a six foot fence
we catch flies
for the biology teacher’s
flesh eating plants
__popcorn spills over
__at the the late night double bill
wiping off
her make-up
on the last bus
__if you sit still long enough
__you can watch the flowers open
in the birthing pool
the baby slips out
from liquid to liquid
__my ears pop as we enter
__the channel tunnel
for the love of country
I fled
and now you send me back?
__a birthday present
__she keeps the receipt
locked into a drawer
an amulet
a loaded gun
__arms raised for St Jerome
__the blood bubbles
across the land
wells spring
spreading black poison
__nightshade
__cut with a scythe
the charcoal burners camp
in the middle
of the oak wood
__a twist of smoke
__plies through the mist
at the crater’s edge
disturbed by feet
a pebble dances down
__she fell in love
__with her psychoanalyst
together on a couch
a woman
and her cat
__fingers in a bowl
__of tormentil
a whole childhood
along ditches
of frogspawn
__my nose led by
__the smell of wild garlic
walking to the souk
for lemons
and a heel of ginger
__the bitterness wears off
__as time goes by
an undertaker
practises his tuba
in the moonlight
__first hint of frost
__cracks the gardener’s resolve
the whole street's washing
sooted up
by Mr. Smith’s bonfire
__even the blue ribbon
__has turned to ashes
shouldn’t it be gold
that is found
at the end of the rainbow?
__spiral notebooks and other
__tiny packaged objects
what can I say
mice have been at the
snowdrop bulbs again
__up and up
__through the dead leaves
still sitting
the swan beaks
her massive nest
__from the bank cows watch
__a narrowboat pass
which is the river?
which is a canal?
and which the sea?
__we sail them all anyway
__in search of Tir nanOg
the high Possil’s hat
could only
suit you
__what is he to think
__all those hearts on her sleeve?
Lady Murasaki
elegantly dabs
a welling tear
__everyone wants to be
__a workie at breakfast
pull up the blinds
and the moon will shine
on buttered toast
__the train’s delayed
__by the wrong sort of mist
under a beech
the sheep gather
in closed circles
__she clings to his back
__as they cross the river
you see turquoise
behind your eyes
when he touches like that
__the ice cap
__stops melting
Scott crossed out
the word ‘wife’
and wrote ‘widow’
__the auctioneer’s hammer
__comes down with a bang
fourteen cock pheasants
go rocketing
over the hedge
__in her buttonhole
__a speckled feather
up before dawn
to the meadows
mushrooming alone
__he breathes out
__it’s only the moon
willow leaves
float onto and under
the old bridge
__our log pile shifts
__a yowl from the vixen
the smudge of scarlet
through glass you know
is Japanese quince
__painting outdoors
__a delight of warmer days
it takes more time
to hide decorated eggs
in their small garden
__the Buddha’s topknot
__lifts him to the light
helicopter blades
whirl incessantly
overhead
__poets shift
__closer to the ground.
a hyakuin renga at Midsummer
The Camellia House, Yorkshire Sculpture Park
(noon) 21 June - (noon) 22 June, 2004
Renga Schema: Jane Reicholdnine
poets
Paul Conneally
Anne-Marie Culhane
Alec Finlay
Linda France
Morven Gregor
Jackie Hardy
Alex Hodby
Gerry Loose
Beth RowsonWith thanks to Nobby, Clare & Alex.
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