Luke Davies Poems
Comments about Luke Davies
Poetry And Flowers
Lark and rose go mad, even with winter
coming on, the garden beneath the verandah blooms,
the park is dense with sun and soccer balls.
By lark I mean generic bird, God knows
the names for all these things with wings. Ditto
the rose: the garden drooling colour and bloom.
Lavender I recognise, and jasmine climbing
the concrete wall, and a real rose in the corner,
red as blood. I meant to say: birds and flowers
go ballistic, even with winter coming on.
Carrying on their own life. The earth drowns
in the blooming. Even when there is no wind there is
From Theory To Pulse
Church of St Etienne du Mont, Paris
Because that force through green fuse drives all flowers
(which we would call the greater force, or God, or minor gods)
and gathers in a place like this — things gather, here and there —
then it’s a good place to come to sit a while, though
the first postulate of relativity, and I believe it, says to me
there’s no such thing as place. But here I am. It’s nice to sit a while.
Protect me, then, in the gathering up, in the going away.
The gargoyles do t