Two Poems by Iain Britton

12 Aug 2014

———-silent epiphany

seldom the experience / the epiphany?

the green slopes

———————-of a volcano

kites wagging on an updraught

———–black-backed gulls

spaced strategically /

in daylight

———-the half-chomped moon

—————is a blue wafer

——pulling at eyes

children continue to conquer

——-they climb

——-above tracks


————————-the heads of parents

the kumara pits

——-dug for the sun’s personal use

———–dug to capture the festivities

——————of different seasons

——–for putting calendars in order

———–they continue

————-to rake the land’s flesh with their fingers

disposed items

register on the unwanted list –

——–small bones


——–charms of lost faith

——–crushed proverbs

two streets intersect /

a visitor turns

assimilates a 3 dimensional translation

——-of rooms / furniture /

heartbeats at windows

——–a person’s reaction

————to living in a wooden box

i chase a newspaper

————–up the footpath / headlines scatter

the unhitched cut loose

——–an upraised hand

——–has been pressed into garden pottery

——-a hooked crucifix / a fish / a burning bush

————–all metaphors in clay

————-leading to a stardom’s topography

of a prodigal’s rehabilitation

clutching at ancestry

——-my grandmother’s gallery

————-of remembrance

———–shifts awkwardly

i connect with frames

the contents of frames——-the skin and hair /

———————————-the blood looks

i relate

———–to madame tussaud’s habit

—————of storing bodies in wax /

of lighted candles

floating off————-into dark spaces /

————————– remote upland grottoes

——–amongst fibres of luminosity

————children make it happen

by unearthing white glands

————————oozing in sweetness

—————-children gratified

—————compare growth spurts

————by measuring their silences



the thing is done with mirrors

——a stash of clothes

———–hung up in a corridor

——-a eunuch

————-checking his box of jewels

the thing is

————–to walk the corridors / then walk out /

a woman arrives in purple

———change is obligatory

——-it offers a wide-angled focus

———on who’s coming towards you

————who threatens to get in your face

——-or whether the day

swarms with scraps of sky

or if an amoebic earth lump

oozes mud

the thing is

why feel so strong / so


i walk on silver reflections

———–and the woman appears

——i wrap her up in a silkworm’s puzzle


————–i jump

—————–from this jetty

———————–/ an acrobat

——————caught in a hawk’s eye

—————i jump

———————-a river



a pulsing jugular

amongst lungfuls of greenery

a countryside

———breathes lying down

—————resuscitates itself

———born-again seasons

blow between fences / paddocks / new towns



she traverses the streets

—————a golden girl in purple shoes

———-with a number / a place to sleep /

————-to accommodate whoever calls by

she lives in a room

—-populated by mirrors /



serve her breakfast / lunch and dinner

——–she has put a price on her head /

——-she has choices

——-the luxury of change

her psychology is rooted to growth spurts

new directions / studies in multiple pleasures

she once lived by the river on a monument

of rocks / she once perched seal-like

turning with the weather turning other heads


so who’s this /

who keeps his jewels

under lock and key

who passes through corridors

never talks

—-or goes outside

——————amongst smells

the stares of animals

the neon knitwear on facades



smear their sweat

————they bend back

the fingers of a cold night

—————-the woman

——–pictures herself

———–monopolising a window

her body cut in glass /

————-illuminated /———her equilibrium


————-i witness the restorative magic

———————of a sudden glance


Photocredit: kisforkate.

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