Local deaths, even a massacre one year.

Frozen and golden

A hare sprouts suddenly from the shingle brush

Takes off a great loping pace with the invisible

Precision of a grasshopper

Our hearts are now

Carved out of granite

Carved up and spat out

This will be the nearly last poem of the year

And here we all are vessels of blood that contain

Eyes yes meet souled hello cold friend

It’s you again

Everyday

Eyes meat soul

The sounding bells the echo location ghost

That haunt the rebounding silos impenetrable to thought

From across the muddy channel we scud stones

We could be throwing all our books too

But something stops

So off Across the fens we go past Ely

Peat black enriched field’s hold the sides of the ooozzze up

It won’t bursts its banks today peatrevereberating through the top soil

Shuddering an ancient burial mound

The captain of men Raedwald or suchlike sends back shudders

Up through the roots

Break cover we over the metal bridge

Quick into the lighthouse to usncape the thunderbolts and frozen hailstones

Pellets bounce of the car roof

Frozen we the men the armies the sighs

The gold

Eyes meet soul

Eyes meet brain meet death giving towards a time in winter when the days are shorter than you remember

Frost pains liminal expanse account

Over the phone we misheard you say

Buck Mulligan as a Mithraic hierophant

Also

An ebullient flâneur he stalked the periphery

Lending his free flowering thoughts fresh fancy and endless fascination

Of course peripheral like an out of date sauce

Up to date sources canter alongside all this as it happens

Yes, boulevards yes arcades

Benjamin and Pessoa think so to intrepid Adorno    

Observe this special spectral message a

Sudden who

In chambers beneath the burial mound

A Mithras scene scent of ambergris and ichor fills the ancient air

A grove hands and knees and feet grovelling

A disturbance

An essence

Beyond the time the temporal lobes exposure

To vast lakes of inter dimensional forms

Craven images shrouds covered over with thick dusty drapes

Thought baubles up from under

Frozen like mannequins in a dirty old outfitter

Full time horror emblazoned with an unbreakable will

By the river’s edge where the saucy water we all adore laps

Gentle at the foot of a god, an offering yes

Down on the steaming Ghats

At the mouth of the Thames the confluence of the channel

Carves evil eddies out of the brown water

This one young lad fell from Westminster bridge

Body found a week later washed up on Canvey island

You don’t forget these things

Local deaths, even a massacre one year.