Friday, 2 October 2015

You're In Badger Beer Country

Smudging at the edging, fringes
of pewter clouds
where the brow
meets sky

a sepia photograph
adjusted on a computer
bark browns, black oils
sheen of silver

Saturday,
one season
joins another

you could see
a futuristic pod, capsule
the doors like a fly’s wings

vertical struts
horizontal beams
above, beneath
moon discs
jaws of grinding teeth

two centuries of distillations
brewed from  presumably the same rain
that fell from similar clouds

the road tilts, lifts
yellow/ash fields
spied thru concentric circles
and too fast to wonder
incrementals, notches
on ruler straight lines.

That said,
when you step back
what you might get
is an easily identifiable
bolted together contraption
an ordinary car
following a documented road
plotted on a red line
inside the folding of a map.

Half a moon
brass lamps
burnish windows
in the oiled latch
of the valley


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