> Hello Arthur,
               I founf this a very well observed piece, with many details that are a great pleasure e.g. `quivering apartments´ for the reflection of the buildings in the canal and `dark rainbow´ for the starlings throat. The overall concept I thought worked very well. My only problem was with section ii. I understood that this was a meditation on a chance observation of a woman seen in the station mall. She must have been some kind of a goddess to evoke a dream like that. ...`feet adorned the shining pathways´ felt overwritten to me. I think the strongest section for me was iv, but I enjoyed it all, with those reservations about ii.




Best wishes,    Mike



> Lähettäjä: Arthur Seeley <[log in to unmask]>
> Päiväys: 2003/12/11 to PM 11:15:11 GMT+02:00
> Vastaanottaja: [log in to unmask]
> Aihe: New Sub: New Poem
> 
> I am resending this because it was returned to me as a duplicate and has not
> yet entered my inbox, which sounds nonsense but I understand. Trust me.
> Arthur
> 
> 
>     Christmas Shopping
> 
> 
>                         (i)
> 
> The canal, grey and still, is the city's mirror
> where phantom campanile drift
> and cranes compile quivering apartments.
> 
> Frost along a leaf, sunlight golden through the frost.
> 
> The train insinuates through the detritus
> of a city's back ways where graffiti blares
> over bleak walls and fallen factories;
> a red brick pub, stark and misshapen, stands derelict.
> We roll heavily, metal on metal,
> over the web and tangle of  bright rails
> shudder and terminate.
> 
> 
>               ( ii )
> 
> She assailed him like fragrance from flowers
> in the meadow's heart. Walls melted as hills rose
> over the paved ways of the station mall;
> dew glistened like stars where her feet adorned
> the shining pathways.
> 
> Loudspeakers' nasal instructions
> resonated and destinations
> flickered across the boards.
> 
> Demure, pale and pregnant,
> ripe as a gourd, she glided beyond him,
> rustled whispers of crisp taffeta at him;
> paused and turned,
> to check her platform, place and time.
> 
> He never knew her, never dreamed to ask,
> but in the clamor of that vast hall
> he slept a moment in the garden of her face
> as centuries uncurled.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> (iii)
> 
> The open market,
> is a cornucopia
> crammed for the Christmas
> of a heaving hoi-polloi.
> 
> Perched on a roof
> a starling, beak agape,
> boot-black beads
> half-lidded in bliss
> 
> harks to the rippling murmurs
> that flow
> from the dark rainbow
> of his throat;
> 
> beyond his warbled taps,
> a milk-white moon
> breasts the ragged profile
> of the city.
> 
> 
> (iv)
> 
> 'Toasted teacake for one'
> 
> Insulted by poverty, badged with age,
> he musters crumbs with his grimy thumb.
> 
> Away for the day
> from the malice
> and unreasoned rages of the estate
> that lap against his window
> like a morning tide of pain,
> shits through his letterbox,
> tries the latch after midnight,
> taunts him through cold mist,
> haunts him down the belling streets
> -wants him dead,
> he has sat here as long as he may,
> dared a lesser wrath,
> gathered the cossets of neutrality and warmth,
> the comfort of folk around him
> but already there are lights on outside,
> inside, bent eyes and shrugs, whispers,
> so he leaves.
> 
> Mother Earth billows up Briggate,
> all arse and anorak,
> rolls like a laden galleon along Kirkgate,
> four carriers per fist, and a family to feed, for God's sake,
> sashays to the music in the streets
> where avenues of Santas nod and beam
> but the night wind down by the bus stop,
> sharp and cold as a blade,
> plucks at his trousers,
> burns omens in his eyes.
> 
>                         (v)
> 
> The city falls behind
> dark grips the train
> evening papers mask us,
> each from each.
> I hold my grand daughter tight,
> watch the pools of light drift past,
> marvel at her small hands
> against the pane of night
> the miracle of her spread fingers.
> My ear against her back
> adores the tiny tremors of life.
>