Poetry Blog by Gaia Holmes
on The Glass House (Mon, 22 Mar 2010 09:36 pm)
darren thomas on I am lifting the piano with one hand (Sat, 12 Dec 2009 10:55 am)
on The man who dripped digitalis (Fri, 11 Dec 2009 08:55 pm)
Winter has sucked the landscape
back to black and white
but in the glass house
the world is plump and curved,
full of juice and spectrums.
We sit on the edge
of the savage garden
where tropical flowers
shred the light with their teeth.
The steamy scent
of sap and green life
soaks through our coats
and makes us sweat.
Tuesday 12th January 2010 9:48 pm
OOps, can't make it link! You'll have to cut and paste...sorry!
Monday 11th January 2010 1:22 pm
He could charm the poison out of fox gloves
and used his skills to quicken my heart.
I wondered what he fed on: frayed liturgies
and the secret dreams of women,
toxic spores translated into messages
of lust, slivers of the dank March sky
rolled up like pickled herring.
I never knew. He always skimmed me,
left me hooked on some potent pollen,
some sacrificial line,
Wednesday 9th December 2009 9:09 pm
I am holding it effortlessly steady
like a gliding waiter balancing a tray
of quail's eggs and salmon souffle
on his horizontal palm.
I am dexterously carrying it up three flights of stairs
without stubbing my toes or splitting my fingernails,
without chipping paint off the door frames
or denting the soft plaster of the walls.
I am lifting the piano with one hand.
Wednesday 9th December 2009 4:26 pm