This I like very much, some unusual phrases and words used in odd
ways....whats a thrust heap, new use of bafflement ro roads (that one
took a while sinking in!)

Thanks
Very intertesting read and thoroughly enjoyed. Style kept me moving
though the poem really well.

Cheers
Ian

 --- Arthur <[log in to unmask]> wrote: >
>                                        Rock
>
>
>
> Road, glitters in heat,         mirage pools glaze       air
> shimmies
>
> above  treacled sheet of tarmac;             passes through the
> cove
>
> of dry coolness                 and shadows of  the underpass
>
> incomprehensible graffiti struts     shrivelled weeds
>
>
>
> drop hopeful seeds           in wedges of blown dust;
>
> noon light blazes beyond.               The hiss and thrum of
> passing traffic.
>
> Into the hammering sun        I stand upon the anvil
>
> of a bafflement of old roads     stopped      obstructed by thrust
> heaps of debris.
>
>
>
> Silence  intense.     Still heat stuns.
>
> Tireless throng of ants      relentless       bent upon their way,
>
> ignore my intrusive feet.     Men have left this rabble
>
> mess of strewn  rubble    gouged from ancient earth,
>
>
>
> a drain to guide     the Winter's storms        and Spring's swift
> melt, seawards.
>
> The sun pins me                     to dusty back roads
>
> lurch through gulch       scraped and scoured by floods
>
> and man's impudence     pick my way over the littered rocks
>
>
>
> the glare of reflected sunlight blistering     as I  teeter a path
>
> through the melee       wilderness of  bouldered hell.
>
> I stand     miniscule     in this fastness of dry rock
>
> noon sun searing       my shoulders and back.
>
>
>
> This is not the time to be out      locals wisely curl in sleep
>
> closeted in shade and fluttered coolth.    I am a mad dog
>
> loitering and bemused.             A rock
>
> amongst all that rock        hair line cracked.
>
>
>
> No bigger than my head       rough skin pocked and scarred
>
> by tumultuous descent                 from  grey fluted flanks .
>
> I part it like a cut melon.    First light floods     dazzling
> striations
>
> more sudden than lightening     pristine    more bewildering than
> untrodden snow .
>
>
>
> A view from a Colombian mast.     I witness a first dawn.
>
> World of gold and purple sands        whorls of colour
>
> this painted desert      opens like an unread book
>
> in my hands     I heft the hemispheres        consider the keeping
>
>
>
> but see about me      other unopened books
>
> untrodden worlds      locked from the light
>
> and toss the split orb           careless into chaos    clamber
> back
>
> to find the road               leave the centuries to unfold.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>

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