Bridging

Harping

'...nimble tongues and lame
have both found favour...'
W.H. Auden: from 'The Precious Five'

............

Of any style the wile
strikes nimbly, Reepicheeps
Achilles, tumbles you
to a cupboard of mud.

And what a pack!
                                     Beautify
the wiped eye, blinking back
tarn margins.

Wild geese gaggling
comic waddlings, lurched
to air's astonishment,
glyph-stream dusk,
a dragon testament.

Any curve might turn you
out of shape and yearn you,
spindling to dream,
a bobbin winding...

and then unwind
a maze-trail, fates
cross and tangle
for the cat's comfort,

tell you what you know
to recognise each
synapse asp speared
by raw dawn.

For of the 'precious five'
tongue's invisible
gong clangs harsher than
Cerberus bark;

whispered steep
at merge of dark
her strung lyre shudders
greener than gravity
lanterning.

....................

Media - love her!

This, below, from 1975

Waking in Darkness

Waking in darkness, walking,
riverflash fleshes a while:
rose, ochre, white fire churning to grey foam
where weir turns sudden its turbulent surges –

It is not movement but the touch
which quickens here, no memory
will misconstrue.

..............