i.m. Martin Harrison
Sometimes a failed notion to copy
nature or autumn into words,
it was a good idea, syntax
or the party of pattern between leaves
I’m no giant but sometimes I dream
places from heights, very blue harbours
linked by bridges and arcane currents
it’s better not to understand
If you put two things together
you have two things which may be
more than you had before, or less
The canal ripples, I guess it’s a westerly
breeze blowing through the archipelago
As a giant on a plane I saw
the dark chains of islands
and almost white morning water
It wasn’t a dream, not even a notion
Flying isn’t natural nor is anything
anymore, the world is hazy over the Baltic,
or over the dam, all the bright horses
won’t save you, nothing, not even a line
read out over the phone
But if you pick a way through the archipelago
it might be this breeze you feel
that’s come all the way across earth
and leaves you that way