David Chaloner


mind's blank
interface to reflection
imperious sky

water shrugs
where blind earth rests
still & compliant

imaginations border
warps ancient meadows
wrapping pollarded willows
in a flurry of inconsistency

backward I have dreamed
this worrisome day

no one speaks
we are elements in complex
fabrications of time
made precious
through fearful prediction

the wound core

words cauterize
grown thick like a cloud
loaded with moisture

all day we said the wind
no longer relevant
as summer passes

long and low autumn
shortens daylight gold
words and ideas
play music
to the hurt of stillness
and thwarted imagination

June–November 2007