III  ROTE

1


Continuity demands a repeat
That idea of talisman holding it all
While you break it, break it

It is only certain rhythms
Folding into us
Then catching
Abrading the filmstock all this
Town, sea, writing and the whole
Nothing can hold it or find
Everything snapped into blackness
And a dead repeated noise
Hammer at a stone
To get inside

Wearing down
Building up
Faith in orogenesis and drift
Those structures alone uncommodified
Pure beautiful forms
Cropping up like perfect pebbles in the streambed
The red ones
Are us

Never abandoned
Dwelt on by ghosts and delusions
Poor human presences
Waiting frantic
For the rock to split