Reuben Woolley

two

no more straitjackets 

my head is overloaded

and i can’t understand what they say

it’s all tripos and trappers

that makes you the sab at high

altitude

                                   something else comes in

                        oh        various things                         the hair

                                   and fingernails                       of a dead body

bits of me have been asleep and dreaming

                        the matter suddenly becomes alive

                        and then          at death                       it becomes dead

                        a very wonderful transformation

                                   if you move

                                  

                                   the picture changes

                                   it’s easier

                                                                       if you stand still

--

(from)

the king is dead

 (iv)

the lightning exposes

the way people walk                 smelling of flesh

free birds eternally pull out more words

to inject into the skull’s dreams

                                             we

were forced into these colours

                                             the man

who cries      or runs            fails the existing spirits     who turn

to go first                             in the final procession

mother and i put out their eyes just before dawn

we waited quietly                   raking the earth

limitlessly                               fusing everyone’s plans

                                               moving

                                               was like a motion picture

so we severed the connection

you have a place to live           where

the rain brings new sights        the singer

is elsewhere                             finding it too much

to hold onto all at once

                                                he had heard

that the earth was round   and the exhibition of his shrivelled tongue

showed his guilt to the sundered worlds

                                               a frozen scream

                                               there was so much blood

                                               in the ritual song

in the sunshine crack

where the eyes and ears could live

sight died                             a raw nerve

was necessary in the shattered reflections

                                             don’t you see them in her window

now was the only time

in kansas jane     supposed a body to be of no importance

but then

                     the            

                                       old               

                                                            dead      

                                                                                       king

                                                                                       would get up

                     and step out of the sea

                                       and fly

                                                            with mercy

                                                                                       to the whole

                                                                                                                                                                                           world

                    

 and step out of the seal

                                             and fly

                                                                     with mercy

                                                                                       to the whole

                                                                                                                                                                                           world

                     wherever she may be found