Poetry Blog by David Blake

I am feet on ground and air-staring,

stare-airing;

I wash and tumble and dry

before guano-flecked facade,

drenched winter water,

and sick-stain, damp.

Short of laughter - loose,

so leave me untethered,

ill of manner and dead-weathered.

Nausea paints no blue sky,

peace dusts my face with wind,

the autumn has shaken me

to my very core;

trees that cover pai...

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The arch-light at the end of the view

from my door is

weather-bitten, with mossed steps,

beneath the thumbprint of moon

(the stone, in the fruit

of the afternoon).

Sideways I glance,

over the hedge;

there, spring has hit,

and apple-tree, honeysuckle

and lacquered gate,

preen idly.

I remembered the last time,

your hands closing both of mine,

as we stre...

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Beside the water,

torch-lit in wide places,

the muddy track fades

and ash and oak are ragged

paper props,

before, beside, behind.

The thaw bleeds out

over marsh and moor,

swept away back east

with lines of fields

pockmarked

and played out.

My own earth is in the box

where

the heart smokes

and is painted on the floor,

where dogs rush to me a...

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A running tap in a cluttered room,

the water through dust-light.

Someone stares from a close distance,

unmoving. The sound fills the space.

A body lies outside, on the paving,

curled sideways, fully clothed.

One fist open, the other

hidden. Dawn breaks slow above.

Two bright young things, in hats,

scarves and gloves, rush breathless

to the window of a jewell...

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Getting famous

with wilderness;

judgement's feather-light

body-blows, cascade

through vertigo.

Too old to start

afresh, AGAIN;

swimming in the scorched

starlight, of youth, eyes

unblemished, bright.

This is all fair,

where would it be

otherwise? How could

the cymbals clang warped

for us, weak heroes?

Or soften, as fruit

rich, nourishin...

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And long may it hit,

the concave triplex hole;

while hidden in a room with no walls,

smears here, and a straw-bed,

and a turntable and the words

have too oft bled;

I canonise these rooms

and walk within them and their dust

and see out through telescopes,

and watch time reflect back:

the umbrella and the border collie

and the post office and an indent,

where thos...

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