Poem 154

From the Morte D’Arthur via T.H. White’s The Ill-Made Knight … another confused encounter during Lancelot’s endless struggle for purity vs. the ‘demons’ (ie. his un-understanding) of sex – and his love for his best friend’s wife … a little modern psychology applied to a medieval tale …

… I mixed up the chronology of the sections of the poem to emphasise the circularity, the no-way-out-ness of the lifelong trap he’s made for himself … not entirely unrelevant even in these ‘enlightened’ times …

… I enjoy the comedy of the Freudian imagery …

Lancelot And The Holy Grail

Phase IV:

I came to the water
and the water said continue


Phase II:

misshapen dwarfs exquisite women
secret demons
the fear of sex lies heavy
on the land on a cold morning
wet weather
I wait to make my connection
on the blasted heath
                                      all my pennants
stretching to earth with water


Phase I:

    to put it simply I want you
    to stop screwing my wife
    and take a look round
    for this thing


Phase III:

I have a worm inside me I said
let it come she said
covering my mouth with hers
we groped round for my sword
I slit her open
her guts were strangely coloured
unaccountable
she was demons alright
my mouth smoked tasting
of pure blue flame

I enjoyed the kiss
I'm going
                 nowhere