.
Pebble Mill, Edgbaston: future construction site, with University of Birmingham clock tower in the distance: photo by Elliott Brown, 23 May 2012
Shining Sun before heavy rain later.
A little boy points at dark holly
that scratches waiting air over
the perimeter walls of the tennis club.
The high rises, the Cricket Towers,
are freshly painted and almost charming
while over the leafless-tree-filled park
the Sun gets smudged.
Put a thumb over faded light
to finish it; be a giant now.
Today I could give up kindness
and smiling and settle down
into that one still crystal heart valve
and be sharp and hard if I wanted to.
If I wanted to, I would.
Wooden Boy: Bus note 31, from The Little Wooden Boy, 8 December 2012
A little boy points at dark holly
that scratches waiting air over
the perimeter walls of the tennis club.
The high rises, the Cricket Towers,
are freshly painted and almost charming
while over the leafless-tree-filled park
the Sun gets smudged.
Put a thumb over faded light
to finish it; be a giant now.
Today I could give up kindness
and smiling and settle down
into that one still crystal heart valve
and be sharp and hard if I wanted to.
If I wanted to, I would.
Wooden Boy: Bus note 31, from The Little Wooden Boy, 8 December 2012
Pebble Mill, Edgbaston: future construction site: photo by Elliott Brown, 23 May 2012
10 comments:
Wooden Boy is of course neither a boy nor made of wood but a fully grown flesh and blood person. His dedication to realising the many dimensions of his home place (Birmingham UK) in a fine work-with-hammer-&-tongs poetry of conscience and spirit moves me very much.
The fact he manages his first drafts on the local bus suggests a civilisation still exists somewhere. (I don't see much poetry being writ on the night buses hereabouts... when and if they do come.)
A few earlier stops on this route:
Wooden Boy: Bus notes 4
Wooden Boy: Bus notes 5
Wooden Boy: Bus Notes 11 (A Black Country Outing)
bautiful images...love it!
Tom,
Wooden Boy has got the weather right at the moment here too --
"Shining sun before heavy rain later" -- and then
"the Sun gets smudged."
lovely poem, and photos.
12.12
light coming into sky above still black
ridge, planet next to black pine branch
in foreground, sound of wave in channel
detail single vertical line,
attention to graphite
by which it can occur, that
is, in relation to it
grey white of fog against top of ridge,
whiteness of gull standing on sandspit
Love that . . .
"Today I could give up kindness
and smiling and settle down
into that one still crystal heart valve
and be sharp and hard if I wanted to.
If I wanted to, I would."
"I wanted to.
If I wanted to, I would"
So much in this poem. So beautiful to hear and see. Feels so vulnerable, tender, yet controlled (=trust).
That still point, while promissory, seems nonetheless well-earned, the provisional or conditional quality of the statement proving its honesty.
Thanks to The Conductor (TC), we are once again presented with an opportunity to read the work of this singular poet.
Thank you all for your generous responses.
Stephen, as soon as the Wooden Girl read the first line of the poem, she thought of you. Something must have seeped into the system.
Daytime noir. Tough, clear and tender. Thanks to both writer and curator for the inspiration.
Wooden Boy,
Yes, "something must have seeped into the system" -- please thank Wooden Girl for such noting.
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