Friday, 22 May 2009

Bluebeard

I know I've posted it before, and I'll probably post it again, and again. I've put a link to a few old posts before I had many readers and a link to the poems from the very bad time last year. On the left, below the Byron, I think.

Bluebeard

Cool space. As soon as achieved
assaults redouble, and again.
Bluebeard, his smug key thigh-hanging.

The tide comes in, leaves beach bare,
when out should be in, when in, out;
gull's eye gleams from climbless roost.

The figures come and pass the window.
Seagreen shutters the house fold-blind;
inside what half-heard laughter means?

A dim hall obscures mysteries,
bulbs have been torn from sockets,
the lamp-click in dark could be teeth.

Cool space is a pinnacle rising out of hell.
It is not found in womb or casket.
There must be air to stretch in.

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