That half-open amber eye fixed on you,
the woman in the kitchen half turning to you —
drowsy tonight, you take in the angles
of chairs, walls, old photos, a painted vase.
There, a heron’s stillness helps it vanish,
wading by a wind-flecked lake.
Outside, car-noise glistening after early rain.
Night’s silence builds its inner ear.
So birds croak from a cracked, green bush,
the mouth’s distortion roars into an amulet,
but nothing distinguishes each memory,
solidified into a white-domed zone:
a set of blocks along a slope, a fossil trace,
kitchen clatter acquires a blinder shape.
Its time is ridged like wind-blown sea.
Suddenly lit up, cat's-eyes down a moonless road.
Its time is ridged like wind-blown sea. Suddenly lit up, cat's-eyes down a moonless road......impressive concluding. Beautiful poem by Martin Harrison is amazingly shared here.
Beautiful, as only Martin Harrison is able to write in such language, lovely and fine metaphors used.5 Stars!
So birds croak from a cracked, green bush, the mouth’s distortion roars into an amulet, but nothing distinguishes each memory, solidified into a white-domed zone: .../// beautiful stanza
Well articulated and nicely penned with clarity of thought and mind. A beautiful creation.
There, a heron’s stillness helps it vanish, wading by a wind-flecked lake. Outside, car-noise glistening after early rain. Night’s silence builds its inner ear.. very fine poem. tony
Night's silence builds its inner ear: lovely- an essential work exposing how specificity becomes amorphous sense of commotion of one dominant constant all entrapping sound. Its time is ridged like wind- blown sea. Astute.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a wonderful write by Martin Harrison👍👍👍