a poem by duncan macdonell

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So then have we watched enough meteors streak and flare overhead

shall we retract in? listen for echoes that click? pop state static

against the weight of brooding silence. Hands appear from out of nowhere

grab to flail against illusions light that streak smouldering trails of meteoric

smoke. Insular inocular we are swept along by delicate consternations

against whitecaps on waves slapping sprays currents tote push

strings to steer our rafts, ragtag into these ends, this this, before this

time drive by ambition and seed latent greed motivate fear to push

against of impetuous dank isolation that cling to the tufts of dust pushed

against the strings to drive them along unspoken goal once all the voices sing

the same tune to the same time in the same key but then

the music would end without its dissonance and rank putsch

clamour there dun centre and lark’s hollow sweet without a backdrop

void of gulls and crows. Ours is a tune in disharmony our hijacked spirits

our voices no longer ours thoughts sparked out from empty enmity conches

the grail the promise of perdition, farming moss, canned wisdom the promises

of heaven beyond or here embalmed in earth all a hackneyed claptrap

trick to keep the chips and chimps in line when the carrots fail the whips drive

the herding flock flocks along not to choose whose table to set

to choose whose meal to serve. Shall the physics feast on your soul

your flesh or shall the physics determine to just digest your name.

duncan macdonell may 2009