"today's the day I'm gonna grab my trombone & blow"
well you might have known Thel as Koi spice the timid one
who wouldn't leave the sunken wreck to sway into the light
flooding the wide roof of the ocean her eyes sometimes opened too wide
& she always kept her top on
which murmured Mermaids Rock
but I think it was just her address she never sang to strangers
or followed her imaginary ships up unfamiliar estuaries
she played it safe which perhaps is wisdom
but you can taste the desolation of her final days:
just buy a little jar in Castorama – Koi Spice –
a bland beige dust that merges in with backgrounds
tasting like wine made from finely-filtered mud
I think you'd prefer paprika lime & ginger pork with Grechetto
followed by creosote digestivo that shivers & kisses your timbers
meanwhile I put the same old Analfabetti Spaghetti chilli flakes & lard
into my broth which resembles the canal where once I contemplated
starlight kissing bobbing pigs – waiting for them to flap their ears
patter the water with their tiny trotters & rise into the sky like swans
Nicolette Larson on backing vocals drifted over the waters from some bar
as I watched from the shadows of Viale Sforza
even the letters waited in vain for the mix to turn tidal & ease downstream
to cast lunar Adriatic spells on the last vestiges of winter
& wasn't it in Corsa Porta Venezia that Wolfcarrier
designed that hall for stars
it all seems reassuringly familiar yet distant
Orfeo heard about the death of the soul & it didn't feel true
so he went down the dark track of song
to look carefully under his hearing
the shadowed singing changed his surroundings
like radioactivity heat or gravity
thus his soul was returned to his presence to take back to surfaces
as long as he looked ahead & sang but as always some thunder & bluster
bothered the tunnel & ear canal where echoes off
lifeless matter seemed to jar & sneer
& he turned to make sure his heart had actually been working –
wasn't it Tolstoy who said that happiness was like water in a fishing net:
lift it up in front of your eyes for inspection & it's empty –
nurse it along behind you & it bulges?
I've popped a book by Peter Riley in the post
& two beet tops for Mrs Pina's goat
now I'm going to find out more about stone
walk on walk on with hope in your heart
don't forget the milk
Cambridge March 2007