Marnie1591: February 2012

Sunday 12 February 2012

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l e a f l e a f l e a f l e a f b i r d l e a f

l e a f l e a f l e a f l e a f l e a f l e a f

l e a f l e a f l e a f l e a f

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w o o d

s a w

w o o d

wortBILD: Visuelle Poesie in der DDR, Guillermo Deisler and Jörg Kowalski, eds. (Halle, Leipzig: Mitteldeutscher Verlag, 1990), 54. My translation.

The Twist in the River

At the clear, beer-coloured and bubbleshot twist in the river –

Every stone a speckled egg spawned in that deep lap,

Every pockmarked, pitted pebble a planet, blindly seeing through its own evolution –

The shallows, and the tall air, are filled with sound and light.

This part of the river expects to be seen, for it has drawn you there,

And the trees, selfless, introduce the sky into your love for the water.

If this place were a person, it would be making up a paper hat while humming –

Entirely self-contained, absorbed yet radiant –

A family moment, appearing normal until years later in retrospect,

When its depth are fully felt, beyond blunt experience.

Underwater, the light thickens slightly but never sets

And the river runs through its own fingers, careless.

Katherine Pierpoint, Truffle Beds (London: Faber and Faber, 1995), 1.

Osmosis

The water is to swimmer as a kiss

Placed on a closed but moving eye.

And swimmer is to water

As a ghost to a claiming room.

The swimmer – suspended, flickering –

Parts the soft walls in the thickened realm

Of an element not entirely owned;

A bladder of heavy air,

Embodied; and yet boneless.

Katherine Pierpoint, Truffle Beds (London: Faber and Faber, 1995), 47.