A Sleeping Engine Poem by mark littler

I live out the past
A sleeping engine in a shocked blank room

Older than saxons
Older than jutes
Older than older!
The land gives back

Dreary English ghosts
Demonic and inertly orthodox

Wake a dread height
Travelling aquatint gives us light
Spilling utter twisted dust
Lace, frost and the same ringing weather from here to there

May day festival and hobby hob foul
chalk horse chases down grass giant
this is a complex relationship of love and place

two of the other strangers dance
he rejected!
she repelled!
many lives are here
safety in numbers
car drawn farm cart coarse with hanged man
maid in her grave

a romance of the medieval from beginning to end
tear it up bring candle to water