David Menzies

Bank Holiday


Old Brompton Cemetery

o broken column

                                  you was

                                                      thou wast

in the cemetery with me.

                                                      The dead began to sing

without reason.

                                  I wander the splashed slate black streets

no more
no more
no more

It is interesting to compare poetry and contemporary physics, and to note how


relate new found trails through blank darkness:

language, mind, matter   matter, language,mind    mind,language,matter
language,matter,mind   matter,mind,language    mind,matter,language


                                             here !


The 11th of September

When the sky is low over History
revelations occur.

Heightened glances
of a supermundane sensibility.

A late autumn sky comes to mind
over Loch Creran:

cyanic blue cuts
through geese skeined cloud.

A wintry squall
cautions from the north,
from the land of Appin
whence the assassin came.

Cattle snort in the dark field
above the raised beach.

a young nordic face is singing at me
from the video screen.

I divert my gaze from ideas of sex and beauty
to a phenomenon that can only be described by photography:

translucent box


electric chandelier

                                                           — then if another recession does happen
                                                           the spectres of the last century will rise up
                                                           to the east of us
                                                           shouting and condemning
                                                           commanding and destroying

                                                           producing an historical moment so full of terror
                                                           that the past will seem like —

                                                                                                                         sd the diabolical.

                                                           Kampf. Kampf. Kampf.

                                                           (the revenge of existence on its self)

The speculative imagination has materialised:

falling towers and crashing planes and endless deserts.

Unreal city

Unreal city.