Iain Britton: Events of My Future

self portraits

 

 

pointillist spots

 

make all the difference

 

 

a therapist holds me to her theories

 

on which coloured balloon

 

should I choose for survival

 

 

for anonymity should take us further

 

 

*

 

the bell on the roof

 

pulls its rope

 

and make-believers shuffle

 

through months of periodicals

 

glossily detailed for leisure reading

 

 

they bookmark pages

 

go with the herds         the flocks

 

the girls ripped open by the moon

 

they live for renewal

ticketed pilgrims              clicked and stamped and

 

cleared for departure

 

the girls run red

 

 

along wet streets

where idols hang

where light bulbs swing

in half-formed faces        and  phones flicker

 

 

*

 

self portraits

 

live cooped-up in houses

 

damp suggestions of another life

 

glad-wrapped      into equal portions

 

 

*

 

I want to believe there are consequences for going early from the party

 

 

at the door       a girl

 

is happy to give me a complimentary pass

 

and a red balloon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

last night’s heaps

 

 

you

 

shop the fluorescent dens

 

for Rapunzel’s makers

 

the caged-in operators

 

of scenic towers

 

 

you climb the backyard ziggurat

 

advertising your day              silhouetted on a heap

 

__________________________________________________________

 

this is the season

 

of wind and rain

of trampling

 

on a storm’s

rough stones

 

of tails            wrapped around legs

heads huddled into coats

 

your body            my body

 

back to back

explorations of where each isn’t going

 

 

you wonder at the strangeness   the detachment

 

the wearing down of the carpet

 

dreams pensioned off

 

the plucking of narratives from Gothic illuminations

 

_______________________________________________________

 

you winter out        amongst              last night’s        lambs

 

dropped in heaps

 

in the continuing song cycle of

 

our Lady of the Poor

 

in the shattered smile of her remains

 

 

I crack the day

 

as it comes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a hymn         or something like it

 

 

accessibility is straight forward

 

a turn of the key

 

and I’m in

 

 

streets /  pavements /  populations

 

emerge from a horse’s mouth

 

a light bulb flashes for one more picture

 

of a scream         a laugh

 

for the sound of a Neanderthal’s hymn

 

 

the river

 

writes it’s prognosis in ink /       / splotches of manpower

 

take up residence amongst houses

 

of debate / debacle

 

 

I see him under the hood of an eyelid

 

draped like a wet blanket

 

across a woman’s lap with cupboards firmly shut

 

 

no diminishing of the concept – what’s done

 

is time-capsuled in her thighs

 

 

he’s said to be asleep /  has been for a while

 

intravenously fed through scars

 

bought cheaply from dispossessed marauders

 

for he            when awake

 

enjoys visiting the iniquities of people

 

 

scrubbing porches

 

brushing footpaths

 

washing red stains from once clean sheets

 

 

his centrality is assured

 

 

a disinterred species

 

living in the comforts of his own cornered plot

 

 

 

I walk the events of my future /       / the buckled curves

the floodlit horizons /      / coral atolls stacked on the backs

of turtles

 

I wrestle to accomplish

 

the reasoning for each unhunted success

 

 

and a French fighter plane fires the first shots

 

at targets writing graffiti on some legless Buddha

holding onto stones

.

.

.

.

.

Iain Britton is a poet based in Auckland, New Zealand, where he is director of Maori Studies at the King’s School. Oystercatcher Press published his third poetry collection in 2009. Kilmog Press his fourth in 2010. The Red Ceilings Press published an ebook “Ten Poems” last year and an Argotist Ebook “songlines” has come online this year. A full collection from Lapwing Publications and a pamphlet from Like This Press have just been published. Beard of Bees (US) has a chapbook of his now online. Forthcoming poems will appear in Peter Hughes’ Sea Pie: a Shearsman Anthology of Oystercatcher Poetry, plus a collection with Department Press in 2013.

 

He blogs here.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: