Ian Davidson

 

A Moment 2

I suppose it's the passage of time
and the way it folds fore and aft or

takes an unexpected turn
the boat was an inflatable full of air

it broke its plywood back on a wave
this seems to be a moment

to go forward or back when
the scales of time

hah

are tipping towards the future
I examined the weight of evidence

became distracted forgetting
this is a summer of love and hate

when anger turns on a misplaced word
whinging about the housework

and getting fat
surfing waves of feeling

keeping away from dry land
riding the route of cycle

 

Dream Boat

The turquoise swell of the sea of dreams
As if all the dreams of the turquoise ship

I am the man of my dreams
Endless features repeat themselves
Mountains falling into the sea
A peninsula floating on reflected light

And I can almost smell you the man of
My dreams the swirling currents
The depths no one can touch
Seagulls sleeping on the swell
The long flight for scraps keeping pace
With the lingering touch of the ship
On the surface of the sea

I have no doubts I am the man of my dreams
The buoys that never get to shore the boys
And who could resist who
Never seem too sure the sea of dreams the
Swim of birds for scraps the sleep of
Birds on the sea's surface rocking

 

Assumed Position

temporarily
across the data
to a level
framing a doorway
and a set of assumptions
positions land
reclamation
language as
speech defects
from house to house
a room to breathe

making a series of connections
I missed the last train home
waving from the front door
gales of laughter
as a passing life as a
misconnection
between the thought and the
emotion
in those terms
as the sequence from
location to
articulation
through the luxury of
time passing
or a distance of
perspective
the sequence
became clear from
place to place
in isolation
the daily doorframe
added each day it
wasn't always
like that

one word
after another
words written over
or never even said
except in the head
and what can you do
except accept
the dissolution
to grains of sand
except position
yourself
in every camp

there is no problem
reversing

inconstancy is a virtue

the vibration
of distant life forms

no
where no
way left
and left again