Love Swordfish Artichoke.

May 15, 2008

Sometimes, I read poetry and I think
why don’t I read poetry more often?
I should read it everyday, wake up
five or six, Google random words like
wing, cusp, love, swordfish,
artichoke. This approach

wouldn’t be the most direct
but I might find-

the interlocking panels of a silver bream –
mistaken catch, failed sight, marine
biologist. There may be fields,
unfurled flags of
lit loam, fresh soil – tulip bulbs
like hand grenades.

Love would be
something on the cusp of something else,
a line of light, door held.
Something escaping slowly.

Would it burn circles in the screen?
Reach out, graze skin?
Would I still be able to go to work?

The other day I found some
pressed inside the pages of a
pulped book – coiled whip,
small snake.

It trapped my breath and buried it
beneath a cherry tree, in a garden
on the outskirts of a different city
I had to walk for miles to recover it.

But when I got there it was different.

It was caught
in the dark glass
of a thick jar.
It was night time
but even with the moon,
you could see the fire.

5 Responses to “Love Swordfish Artichoke.”

  1. Pam said

    love swordfish artichoke..sums up poetry, i reckon

    strange, unsettling poem-love it x

  2. Hi hon,

    Thanks, as always, for taking the time for coming here and reading. I think the second half needs some work, so plan to come back later. I’ve been looking at your stuff. You’re so amazing. You have too much stuff to stop hearts. Don’t know where to begin to comment. It’s Exactly what I mean about with poetry.

    Last night I was reading something on Agni (poetry mag) by Sandra Beasdly ( )
    – that did it too. I meant to go to sleep and wake up, but it set off. It just grabbed me by the throat and forces me to feel stuff. Must. Read. More. Poetry;)

    Will perhaps look up that Eilizabeth Bishop stuff you’ve referenced over on yours. God you’re good though…you get that email I sent…?


  3. ivoryfishbone said

    i love this too

    fabulous arresting imagery


  4. Pam said

    Hi Lydia,


    stops your heart, that’s poetry, yes

    which e-mail was it? the one about the Word stuff

    my e-mail’s gone bonkers and I know I ain’t getting some of ’em


  5. Oh, think it was the Word one. Got you’re poem so thanks for it.


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