David Berridge

The Ilex Road

                               The town has roofs of slate

          plucked nails of my own fingers

                                          so Ka could recognise himself as himself

                     curiosity of our own sublime ape and itch

                                                    to shape model and refine

                     a face the masses of greens into leaves

taking into the hand an ilex

                               right kind of hand whose touch

                          not diminished by distance

                                                    dough men clothed and sexless

                                          gravy masculinity

                                                                         ornate calligraphy

draws swollen breasts and bellies

                                                    one plum
                                          two plumes
                                                    three plumbers

                    along creases when earth is folded

large goose egg in each hand

                               broken wheat field not allowed moon

          every car brings more loaves

                                          are holding up the roof
                                          arms above our heads

                                          apart from today
                                          arms tiring you say

                     "silent together"

                                                               "freezing and thawing"

                               "cracking rock"

                                          "silent alone"

                               no wind
     only steam from fifty kettles

                     stone's experience of water's experience of stone

                                                               one hit of the triangle satisfies
                                                               the election is called

                                                               one blow of the recorder

                                                               strewn over the floor
                                                               music of our friendship

                                                               throw out the window

                                                               windows vibrate
                                                               with speeches

                                                               you appear in the street
                                                               I'll wave from the window

                                                               making the link
                                                               my house and yours

                                                               a high chair
                                                               has been left

                                                               in poor debate
                                                               the instrument and

                                                               chicken leg

on his tongue the tables the pools of rainwater

gives the new cafe a chance its vast array of teas

sun breaking through mouth's palette

swept away leaves mice riddling flood water

turns arch of bridge into paper hat

                               how did you end up the person you are?

          there was a sudden rain shower, chorus

                     strode up hill wire cutters in hand

                                                               one flint one truth both hands

height marked on water level gauge

                               candles grown metonymic

          breadcrumbs in my direction

                                                    alone           stinging           standing           stones

                                          for news of themselves


          is not my discovery

                                                    moon and stairs

                     cannot believe how different they are

                                          to the medium in which they find themselves

                               this contrast accelerates exponentially

                                                               with rich and poor air

                               melodies a leaf on the surface of the water

          in which we are all swimming

                     each for the other

                                    ship far out a story told forgotten half way through