From Separate Voices
by Scott Thurston
the small
support the large in a
forest where
another law is apparent
when I stop
here I literally get off
become object
of another world's subjects
the bleached
logs spin wink out
of sun's spot
tape a sudden immersion
bordering on
disappearance
the totally uncompromising
stance comprises a promise
to a tone
spread out in subtle rings
of selfishness
it bangs a head broad open
cuts against
a star board right for
bloody
intricacies simple sudden a
shower
caught you again for your
deep deliberate
colours tacked to a mast
I adore you
so much that I completely
forgot about
you lying there between
the sheets
a resurgence of a split
glyph turned
out of sidings anonymous
in a place
where grit in one’s eye
turns to jewelled
beauty a fractured tenderness
a blackbird
singing
being beguiled
by the surface of perfection
belies a deep
dissatisfaction that one gives
you your easy
surface easily and yet
this one you
find intolerable because it
reminds you
of the depth you crave
your need
without being trapped by
it to disperse
those lines a little wider
till it hears
you
what are the
edges so tied up tight in
me that when
I turn the page turn over
in bed I arrive
on another plane of
consciousness
and it breaks to suggest out
of a patterned
barricade those gleaming surfaces
is it living well
to shine so bright or is a hoax
concealed is the
work boiled down to its essentials
or is it the last
cracked remaining residue
of thought
make a drive hole
down into history as age's
becoming breaks the
ties between the root
and the head of the
crop the paradoxical gap
is an opening out
where the dream turns from
the surface back
into a future narrative a
wager for knowing
or a relationship to knowing
a sudden beguiling
harmony between the train
on the track
the truck
on the bridge
