Friday, January 02, 2009

Revised: Waiting for a Train at Stratford Station

What's this, Rik? A third revised poem? All in one evening?

'Ah', I see you both nodding. 'But is it any good?'

Who can tell. What I do know is that this version is a whole wagonload of betterment than the pile of stinking wordslush from which it emerged. And that (for now) is good enough for me!

Here 'tis:

Waiting for a Train at Stratford Station

Beyond the station fence, a field
in plough, farrow, till - ready for seeds.

Great moles have burrowed beneath,
their spoils steep mountains: brown; bare.

Spring shall come, and a vision
can bloom: cantilever petals, translucence.

Sit. Imagine the complex language -
fibonacci spirals, sunburst rain on blade.

My clanky snake is late: I catch
snow on a tongue; watch transient hills frost.

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