2008. július 26., szombat


In the east by the river
bluebottles and grey pinstripes
swarm the banks.

A boisterous calamity
tumbles over cobblestones.

In the west: closed off by warped
girders and cinder blocks

white ants drip from stalactites
and black ants are blown

by a wind which pulls a cloud
off the sun, a spotlight on the scene:

Hundreds of insects organise themselves
into rows and columns.

Between: a cow floats down stream
and you can hear all the small noises -
the current, your breath, the insects.


Cages Brambles and poppies

a tongue poking out of cracks
in a concrete mouth.

A single drop of water
an eye on a stalactite
glimmers with light then falls.

Crumpled tarpaulin skin
catches tears
holds on to them.

An empty bird’s nest
inside a wheelbarrow
a heart dismantled gradually by wind.


A lot of previous work on this blog has attributed defamiliarisation as a catalyst for creativity. There is certainly some weight in this, but on a recent trip to London I noticed a padlock (no larger than a matchbox) had been attached to the Millennium bridge.

During my trip to Hungary I learned the padlock is symbolic of a love that cannot be broken; lovers put the lock in a public place and throw the key away. There is a famous wall of padlocks in Pécs, South Hungary. It is not unheard of for people to travel long distances to attach a lock to the wall at Pécs, to consolidate a marriage.

There is also weight then, in derives to places which we are familiar with. Where every building has a personal history and the smallest thing, even amoung hundreds of people on a busy bridge, can stand out to the familiar gaze and bear such significance.

This week I have planned derives to familiar places in order to hopefully discover a poetry in these alien elements.

Angus Sinclair 26.07.08

Nincsenek megjegyzések: