new geometry

Chair

! Forgetful in the shadow, falling

! across my shoulder,

! from the remains of a villa in Tivoli,

! while waiting for chance

! to unlock a door,

! I've evolved into a stack of bones

! soaking up electric light.

! Patched into a horse-hair chair,

! I can see the approach of autumn

! gathered in a column of clouds

! never quite escaping

! the boundaries of this ceiling.

The Road

! A glade of shadow

! you walk through but

! arrive nowhere.

! An indecipherable

! space of walling

! too concentric

! for words. Beyond

! we hold our breath in

! a scaffold

! glade of chevron

! shadows held

! up at bay.

Wet Days

! Wet days. As empty as sky.

! A solitary clambering

! hide-and-seek over

! the timber stacks on the quay.

! A slime of seaweed over

! my jeans, in tears

! I wade homeward

! without finding my way.

! Full of school

! rigors, I embrace

! no one,

! walk through deserted

! streets, catch up

! on my own, fall

! into a blue,

! defenceless day.

Branching

! Across a drowsy even plane of grass

! grazing on dream-time pheromones

! caught on the tips of leaves,

! hover-flies

! hunt.

! Browsed by information retrieval

! a machine - unable to think

! for itself - will unearth leads

! plugged

! straight to ground

! exposing a litter of hardware,

! a collection of miniature catastrophes

! lost to some future regret.

Cobbled Path

! We move forward - we think

! of a path to somewhere.

! Not a dividing wall

! ahead of us,

! breaking our hearts

! in two

! over which way holds

! our best chance.

! It's comfortable enough,

! reaching up

! to the solid stone.

! Warmed by the sun,

! we forget, spend too much

! time here,

! and become parched.

! Can we see a way

! over

! further down the side,

! or is that simply perspective.

! Either way seems to curve.

! The lines stretch backwards.

Bone Tree

! Scoured knee bone,

! exposed,

! shocked by light

! inside its gaping skin,

! fearing movement,

! blanching

! dyed cotton,

! holding back tidal air,

! and white death,

! freezing

! a life time

! inside a wedge of night.

Secret Garden

! It's no more than a narrow entrance

! to a secret garden,

! inviting me to view a glade of

! silence.

! But step over the hesitation

! and I'm scratched, crouched down,

! nestled in brambles, unable to

! move.

! Like a child falling off a raft

! into deep water,

! thrashing, urgently in need of

! air.

! I ram forward against the ruin

! of my thoughts,

! brutish loss of love, brutish envy,

! lose sight

! of a way, lose grace. Holding only

! frenzy and self-loathing.

! I stamp out into a dead end of

! vegetation,

! only to move back into the ripped

! undergrowth

! to find my spectacles, my safety,

! the well-worn field.

New Geometry

! We seek the answers

! swallowed whole

! when we were new.

! How we wound up the flight

! of green birds,

! bound up the geometry

! of crumpled paper.

Puzzle

! The man upstairs

! voicing his concern

! has again turned out

! the crux of his aggrievement;

! the right to reply

! spilling his empty room

! down over the rim

! of our ears

! onto the black

! and white squares

! of the crossword

! at our table.

Fallen Angels

! Several weeks ago I opened a pale blue map

! of the outlying area.

! With my rucksack and a few belongings

! I deserted the city

! to try and find objects of light.

! I soon grew tired

! and resolved to leave things

! as they were. Only then

! did the stones around me

! become white hot.

! I became

! a vast flock of birds;

! flying, wading,

! flowing for days.

! A path forward followed by another.

! I lost sight of land

! scattering species below me,

! staggered, varied.

! At first

! we were almost identical,

! standing on the high ground

! out of the water.

! But one species grew

! to such large numbers

! that they darkened the sun.

Empty Room

! We have difficulty

! in talking.

! We should make things

! more clear.

! In the summer we said nothing

! like coming across an empty room.

! I washed away the floor

! so that I could choose

! this room

! to be with you. I lay down

! and dreamt

! that my eyes

! were two fishes. I awoke

! and saw pools of water.

! Around us

! walls change.

! In between

! they collapse into daylight.

Book of Endings

! The view from this room

! where I write

! these last lines -

! a straight road

! drenched with black diesel,

! a flat scar-line.

! Around our special place

! pages now litter the site.

! Smooth flowing drive -

! downstream

! dead fish look white

! like night clouds

! bathed endlessly

! in our dark spill.

! Only dead roads

! crossing here

! reveal the truth of this view

! as I leave this night

! to stumble on metal ground

! where there is no air,

! no tree, no light.

Outside In

!

! A group of trees

! has shed dark

! ovoid cones.

! Joined in pairs

! to a black twig,

! each cone has split apart

! to become a cluster

! of tiny wooden leaves.

! She gathers

! some into a plastic

! carrier bag,

! ripping up patches of grass

! and needles,

! to sprinkle

! earth

! over her

! living-room floor.

Buddha's Smile

! Symmetrical folds

! carved on a jet black

! Buddha

! describe a draped gown

! fastened by his hand.

! Perhaps now

! his only possession,

! as he has given his smile

! to me.

Boy Abruptly Awoken

! Boy abruptly awoken

! in the world. Lop-

! sided hand-

! painted

! photograph exposed with the sun

! in my eyes.

! Damp asthma by

! dark rooms.

! The house next door

! ! ! bombed

! during the war. Attacked

! each night, a tight chest

! calls cloy

! in the trenches

! my father worked outside. My needs,

! my mother worked inside.

! Boundaries set by the frozen

! lavatory, dank

! with spiders; the rotting front-

! room floor; the bedroom

! fleas, locked

! my shoulders round, shielding.

!

!

! Pinched, like so many,

! I found it difficult

! to imagine colour

! beyond

! wet days.

!

Hiding Places

1

! Clasping the others

! in silence

! he hid under the quayside

! tarpaulin, while the last boy

! clambered over the timber

! stacks,

! seeking the same comfort.

2

! Instead of school,

! hidden

! and curled up under a blue sky

! he lay in a cut away

! on top of a ziggurat

! of

! bricks

! cradling himself.

3

! So much dust

! shocked

! his skin as much as the cold floor

! under the bed. He hid as the girl

! was slapped around. Still catching

! her breath

! she later helped him to dress.

4

! He was confined

! against the machine

! which packed up his meanings

! into bleached white

! boxes

! leaving only brief daydreams.

5

! In a dream

! he cupped his hands

! to drink again

! of the refectory wall in the abbey ruins,

! the unspoilt carpets

! of grass,

! the purifying wellspring.

Playtime

! He is careless

! of my whereabouts. Come to nothing

! behind a false acacia,

! my house is derelict to him,

! as he broods intently over a flat stone.

! We both hear the distant road

! drilling, the shrill playground voices

! and the boy's own blunt mimicry

! of machine-gun fire

! (an interminable annex

! of terrorist activity)

! over the dislodged

! stones of my rockery,

! where light,

! dipped in shallow water,

! has formed a spectrum

! inside a smooth white shell.

michael hobbs