Authors: Alan; Sillitoe
While all trees wither and retreat.
Out of farm range or cottage eyes trees make war
Green heads, close as if to kiss
Roots to rip at quickening wood of tree-hearts
And tree-lungs, sap-running wood-flesh
Hurled at the moon, breaking oak
Like the dismemberment of ships,
At the truce of dawn wind trumpeting.
Sedate, dispassionate and beautiful
They know about panic and life and patience
Grow by guile into night's
Companions and day's evil
Setting landmarks and boundaries
That fight the worms.
Trees love, love love, love Death
Love a windscorched earth and copper sky
Love the burns of ice and fire
When lightning as a last hope is called in.
Boats on land they loathe the sea
And wait with all arms spread to catch the moon:
Pull back my skin and there is bark
Peel off my bark and there is skin:
I am a tree whose roots destroy me.
DITCHLING BEACON
End of life and before death
Feathers dipping towards oaken frost
A bird heard that shot:
The ink sky burst,
Stone colliding with the sun
Echo stunned its wing
String hauled it down.
Gamekeeper or poacher
Cut its free flight to the sea.
Vice had tongue, veins, teeth
Dogs in panoply, pressure
To ring a sunspot fitting neat
The blacked-out circle of a gun.
LIZARD
Fiddle-tongue and spite
Hang as if asleep
Safe on his tipped world,
But lizard-shoulders hunch
Pulsate at a fly on slanting wall.
Belly smooth, feet stuck firm
A thousand volts of paralyzing tongue
Rifle out and kill;
Weapons in one stomach pit.
Death is quick when looked on,
Sweet as food when the lamps of paradise
Blacken a brain that one day
Hoped to know.
Sparking tongue ignites
A common wink and into oblivion:
The lizard unaware of upside down
Eats as it runs.
EMPTY QUARTER
He meditates on the Empty Quarter:
Mosque of sand dissolving through eggtimer's
Neck. Looks on camel-loads
Starting for Oman or Muscat
By invisible Mercator's thread
That burns the hoof and shrivels
All humps of water. Empty Quarter lures,
He travels with his heaped caravan
Earth-tracks marked as lines
Of unstable land, golden sandgrit
Lifting up grey dunes near vulcan-
Trees and foul magnesium wells
That asps and camels drink from.
He throws off bells, beads, silk, guns
Knives and slippers, scattering all
No longer needed â camel meat
For scavengers, everything
But his own dishrags of flesh.
Naked and demented he hugs
A tree rooted in the widest waste
Catching dew from God at dawn
And dates dropping through rottenness,
Tastes the lone tree's shade
No one can chop or whip him from,
Till one day ravelled in his own white flame
He abandons the Empty Quarter
And trudges back to terrify the world.
FIRST POEM
Burned out, burned out
Water of rivers hold me
On a course towards the sea.
Burned out was like a tree
Cut down and hollowed
No branches left
Seasoned by fire into a boat:
Burned out through love's
Wilful spending
Yet sure it will float
Kindle a fresh blaze
Burn out again
On a stranger shore â
Unless pyromaniac emotions
Scorch me in midstream
And the sun turns black.
LOVE'S MANSION
To keep them healthily in thrall
They build a little fire in the hall â
And burn their opulent home to ash.
A ruin is better than no love at all.
Dark and ageing timbers crash
Cats surround it at full moon.
Did they abandon love too soon
Full of happiness to see it fall?
Let it fall, in sight of all
It kept them long enough in thrall
As cupboards burn and timbers fall.
They're still inside, nowhere to run
No windows through which they can crawl;
Only the trapped and burning see it fall.
It kept them like a snake in thrall.
A ruin is better than no love at all.
They smile unhappily to see it fall.
TO BURN OUT LOVE
To burn out love is to burn a star from the sky
But can touch reach so far,
Feel the fire increase
Careful the heart but not the star will burn?
Star that pulsates like a fish:
My heart meets you in dark or light
To taste the waters of the star which says:
Trust once gone can never be restored â
Such love can surely be put out,
The power to break its fire with my fist.
SEATALK
Talking on the beach:
Love has broken its heart
Is a pomegranate split
A waterfall pouring in.
Each half lifts
Drifts out to sea,
Eaten clean as January boats
By frost and salt.
One will sink, one go free:
Withered fruit-husk without salt
Or soul. Could be you
And could be me, watching January waves
Erupt like whales and thrones and tractors:
Stones clash back into their places.
You wait for a boat to come
And snatch you from love's pandemonium
Of humping tide and screeching stones.
But what shipwrecked you there?
Want to know, and cease to wonder:
The boat lurches into seas of danger
Waves turning phosphorous, turn fire:
Rowers begin work, and you not with them
When the numbness in you burns
Because you do not want to go, or stay.
Pomegranate is a far-off fruit
Scattered seeds fulfil no circle.
Love cannot kill
A broken heart, nor mend it.
The sea defends its dead
And those born from it,
Believes in broken hearts
Burns when it boils so.
No boat can stay, must fall apart
Floating through the open heart,
Like fruit bursting
At the shock of moonless water,
And two more hearts pulled in to slaughter.
NAKED
Naked, naked, I never see you naked
As if to be naked is to tell lies
With the body that you show â
Cover it and keep the truth.
Hide naked, keep it close
You never let me see you naked
Unless half so by accident or tease.
Hide it carefully: those lies are yours,
Not mine, speak them loudly if they burn.
Belong to someone else, not mine.
I see you naked through them,
Through love, naked beyond the truth
That will not let you see yourself.
Keep your body for someone else:
The lies that hide you are less sure
Than the truth that blinds me.
GHOSTS: WHAT JASON SAID TO MEDEA
It is time to part, before murder is done.
We have robbed each other of all we had,
Eaten bitter herbs of battleground and kitchen
And soaked our souls in them,
Digested the gall of trust so cannot give it back
In that pure state it was before:
Consumed ourselves by ignoble hatred.
So let us part like ghosts
And promise not to haunt each other â
Or make ghosts of others.
HUNGER
I haven't found my hunger yet. When will I know
The hunger to eat these walls away?
The smallest creature visible to the eye
Ran the pallid whiteness up this page
And when I crushed it, hungry at its freedom,
I found a tiny spider made of brick.
It had lived on brick, the bright red dust of brick
That filled its dust-dot of a body and even the speck
Of legs it ran upon. Its life was fed by dust,
The dust of bricks, and it had slaked its hunger
On bricks, no question asked or thought of,
Eating through walls was its life, its vital hunger
For the walls it ate through, even at times
Without hunger. It was so realized
I crushed it, a reddish smear
On the page to remind me
Of the hunger that I know about at last.
HEPHZIBAH
Why don't I write or speak the name?
No light at Hephzibah's window,
So do not use âlove' in vain
Nor easily at this turn of the game.
Her name ignites the wind, breeds
Smoke in the snow of the heart
Gluttons the marrow as I watch
The bombed space
Phosphorized to blindness.
You cannot answer letters or my speeches,
A different man when salt burns
Till there is no more light.
Signals change before the gale
Wipes all traffic out.
Cogs and linchpins tattoo Hephzibah
So I can't forget your name, or use it,
But continually hear magic syllables
Shriller than my curse
As I speed through
White headlights flooding the world.
FULL MOON'S TONGUE
She said, when the full moon's tongue hung
Over Earls Court chimneypots,
And he circled slowly
Round the square to find
A suitable parking place â
She said: âLet's go away together.'
âKeep clear,' he said. âYou'd better not.
I'll take you, but watch out,
For I will bring you back
If at all,
In two pieces.'
She said: âI'll never want to come back
If I go away with you.'
âThey all do,' he said.
âI'll bring you back in two pieces
And you'll live like that forever
And never join them up again.'
âHow cruel,' she said, seeing what he meant.
âOh no,' he said. âTo take you apart completely
From yourself and make two separate pieces
Might be the one sure way of fixing
A whole person out of you â
Some do, some don't.'
He was exceptionally nonchalant.
âI'm not sure now,' she said,
Screaming suddenly: âYou bastard!
Let me get out, I want to walk.'
He stopped the car
But could not park it,
Someone with a similar problem
Was hooting him to move,
So she jumped free and walked away
Leaving him bewildered,
And in at least two pieces.
You talk too much,
Said one piece to another.
SILENCE AND STILLNESS
Silence and stillness
Are most prized in a whirlwind.
Panic is being caught
Between millstones of stillness â
Feel the bones of the body
Living out the heart's pain.
The whirlwind will penetrate
The stockade of a gaze erected
That nothing can break through,
While waiting for the force
That will pull you into the body
And draw all pain away.
A lawn grows in the palm of one hand:
Trees in the other combust
To chase worms out.
Nothing can soothe the battered soul,
But love cauterizes madness.
SMILE
Can't get him out â
Sits right in the fireplace
Curled up tight
Olive logs send red flames
Feeling the chimney spout.
Cold and safe, legs indrawn,
Wan smile, squats in his fireplace,
Irons cold, hair neat
Away and safe unless
A crowbar can prise him whimpering free.
He smiles wanly because no one has.
If and when he would be normal,
A dead man on the street, smiles
In a mirror no one can smash:
A moonless grimace of victory,
Insane as the sun
That cleanses better than any fire
Or his prison it once burned in.
CHAIN
The chain is weakest at its strongest point:
The strong link by its heart helps weaker parts,
And so weak links grow tauter than they should.
Thus, taking too much strength
The whole chain crumbles
Broken at both weak and stronger points.
Water breaks the strongest chain
When a stormtide drags the ship away.
Power changes all equations â
The strongest link a strand of hair,
And weakest at its strongest point
Shares its heart with weaker hearts.
GULF OF BOTHNIA â ON THE WAY TO RUSSIA
Midnight aches at the length of life
The endless day
Blocking the porthole-elbow of Bothnia:
One grand eye lit in twelve o'clock yellow,
Turquoise and carmine sun
A wound gouged by the night-dragon
Not yet asleep.
Day bleeds to death
Sea close enough to dip
The pen and write in.
No midsummer howitzer can give
A morphine blast and send the sun
To whatever will rise up at dawn for me.
Space and midnight fill all emptiness,
As lost love bleeds acidic dreams
Into the solvent sea:
Red like a Roman bath.
EURASIAN JETNOTE
Frontiers meet over steppe and meadow
At burial mound, salt waste or winter hut,
Beyond danubes and caspians
Where sturgeon breed by reed and barge-hullâ
But wood outlives
Asia or Europe, love shaped by heart-torn
Internal bleeding of the stricken forest.