Poem 41

The endless enigmas of the ghost in the machine and the lust of life for itself … I love the language in this, and the way it loves language, a bit Gerard Manley Hopkins … I’m thinking of the intricate machinery of antique theatre sets (particularly when representing the sea) combined with memories of beach-netting with my grandfather, snatching fish from the shallows – how he put the heart of a kahawai in my hand and I watched it carry on beating …

( I like the way snorting is half-repeated as swarming … and how cat-in-a-sack evokes the convulsive twitch of a heart … )

Tabs And Fins

mechanism sea
moving panels where it brims against
it slants against
the million-crystal shore
slapping there in the shallows
flat body beating
flat flailing at the spread sea
running in the groove of that sea
in the grain of that land
spray snorting
spray swarming round my head
and the brilliant body flipping
flaps in the corrugated sea
and the fins that are tabs
on the panels of the sea
and the shining shower of scales
coppery raining racketing down
on the snare of the sea
as the white cloud of the ball of the eye
turns back
and the split lump
the cold red dough of the fish's heart
beats in my palm
beats
like a struggling cat
in a wet red sack
senselessly
sensually
on and on