pleated gears and acceleration sequences
images combine when reading quickly readily recombine that is
Phyllis Webb in Sunday Water: Thirteen Anti Ghazals invites the reader to
Hear the atoms ambling, the genes a-tick
in grandfather’s clock, in the old bones of beach.
driftweed is perhaps what the beach washes up but wave upon rushing wave yields the homophony of beech, the tree, the grandfatherly tree, an appropriate chronometer planted for generations to ponder and could perhaps as felled timber be lost at sea, driftweed indeed.
Robert Priest: Sky Sea Night and Skin provokes an urge to reverse some of the sequence: Sea Sky Night Skin.
Lorna Crozier: transposing as transplanting for The Garden Going On Without Us: a flight plan rearranged “like direction and distance” from “Wild Geese”
passed through generations
like distance and direction
and the longing
for a nesting ground.
Gathered together the refound lines give
like direction and distance
sea sky night skin
in the old bones of beech
A drift in pilfering, rearranging continues in some gnawing sea sky direction.
And so for day 556