Past Participation
what’s done is done
you cannot change the past
it’s laid to rest
history is the cemetery
cast and chronicled
in its many forms
whatever your opinion
however outraged you feel
it’s buried, let it lie
you might burn books
fell statues, redact names
your cauldron of indignation
haphazardly spilling over
for what?
nothing can change
consider education
to debate the wrongdoings
and norms of yesteryear
don’t try to scrub the slate
the past is indelible
it’s in your blood
like it or not, get over it
*
Barack
once more the order changes
newly dealt cards are played
half the world breathes easier
others feel dismayed
the futility of anger
fuels prejudice of race
vengeance reconfigures
to reveal a different face
the citadel stands fractured
a hairline crack appears
now flags wave instead of people
cold snap instead of cheers
get ready for redemption
make ready the battle drum
a skirmish wasn’t all out war
revolt must surely come
gold plates heaped feel warmer
fast-food boxes cool
your father must have warned you
never underestimate the fool
once more the order changes
the new cards take a crease
assassins circle boldly
to eye the golden fleece
the people must decide their fate
sing anthems, dream the dream
re-learn the message of the past
and let the eagle scream.
*
Gandini Jugglers 4×4
silhouettes, smoke,
suspense
slap-slap!
Sigh
skittles soar skyward
split-second
stop!
standing
shoulders squared
syncopated sequences
sssssshhhhhh!
sure-footed, soft-shoe
site-swapping,
structures
smoooooth!
silence settles
spatial spirits
somnolent symmetry
smile
*
Christmas Eve 1961
the savings club paid out
and father’s flush,
his Christmas Box,
a crisp fiver
in a snowflake envelope
now tucked in mother’s purse
the long day, just once a year,
to Northampton
up top on a double-decker
engulfed in Woodbine fog
heavy condensation
on ram-shut sliding windows
same plan every year
market first for the cockerel
department store Santa
posh fish and chips on a plate
a late afternoon ogle at the lights
in the Co-op arcade
then the bus home
bags, boxes, packages everywhere
under the seats, on laps
the bloody cockerel’s head
swinging from the parcel rack
mesmerized me to sleep
*
Cardiotropic
Somewhere, out of sight
around a blind corner
in the maze of electronica
a rhythmic frog-noise
burps between two pitches
too loud to encourage sleep
I am wired into telemetry
a racing driver would be proud
but all I can only think of suction caps
tugging at my chest hair
to make me even more
fucking miserable
heart failure, that’s its real name
better get used to it
that two-pennyworth of muscle
that keeps the lights on
has finally decided to blink
and ask for help
I’m in the bargaining-chip
age range, sixty-eight
not young enough for outrage
not old enough for submission
rocked, shocked and desolate
a statistic at last
*
Benno and Osiris-Rex
I kneel in graveside dirt
drop a handful of dust
a mere six feet
and search for a meaning
for this death
elsewhere
in other news
two-hundred and five million
fifty-two thousand
four hundred
and ninety-three
miles away
a small machine falls
to the surface of a rock
five-hundred metres wide
and grabs a handful of dust
in the search for the origins of life