Brian Wake Poems
|2.||I Never Did Think||6/12/2013|
|5.||Leading The Blind||6/12/2013|
|11.||Clutching At Straw||6/12/2013|
|13.||Lazarus Meets The Press||6/12/2013|
|15.||Signs Of Spring||6/12/2013|
Goethe’s clock is ticking in an empty room.
He sits quite motionless. All art, then peels
a curling strip of wallpaper from a dilapidated
wall, begins, he says, from what we know
and seeks connections everywhere. All poetry
gives probability to our disjointed world.
Goethe winds his clock each afternoon
at twenty five to four. I wind the present on,
he says, the shipwrecked man ashore. I will assert
my part in what, until a moment such as this,
has been concealed. I wind a dawn of flickering
light bulbs into something more meticulous.
Goethe winds ...
I Never Did Think
I never did think highly of the sea,
said Noah, but used it as a means to come
and go heroically, pack suitcases and kiss
someone goodbye, to be wished
all the very best by neighbours passing by.
Against the silver walls of icebergs,
I, he said, throwing bits of bread to feed the birds,
have heard the echo of a storm more clearly