The Sardine Tree                          Part 5

1

by myth I mean somehow like                              personal marrow

an ancient Greek                                                        stock with figs

or modern Catalan tree                 no-one has been hanged from                                  

a tree is not from the vegetable kingdom     aches: a lost map of   

it is something human                                      yourself

a tree breathes & listens to you                       listening

it falls in love with its buds as they turn          to you

into flowers & its flowers as they                         finger dusted

turn into fruits                               you grow outside of

it resists the wind & loves you        as you change your name

                                                             peeling a rusty season or two          

I don’t think of a stone as something dead      it’s stock

                                              a portable icon of vast process

basically what I paint is this mythology      this dripped idea   

                                                                    a dream allowed to dry             

of course                                                    even awake

some people are something tree               baked grain

would I lie to you?                                               wave in the

      breeze

the light across the skies                                apricot pleats

swallows                                                                 blink

your eyes                                                                         

2

in 1973             80                               17

I discovered you can burn the canvas                   for light

& the stretcher   by pouring petrol over them        & air shivers

& lighting it                 or by using a blowtorch             & roars

it’s not hard to control the burning                          sighs or

& you can get some amazing textures                  blisters & pops

                                                 revealing a stream of lustre & enamel   

here’s                                                                 caramelised

just a glimpse                                            (onion skin

of part of the title of this one:        wafted off the chopping board        

                        by no more than a silent sigh)

the glow of the moon lights the tracks of the snail

this was a myth                          a shining direction

that didn’t need matches                 outside the door

evolution is better than revolution            discussion

but keep your flint & matches                       percussion

situations change                                               station road         

3

the song of the vowels                           aeolian aerials

                                                                                 orgasm &          

or a line of your choosing                                  pain along the edge

it took only a moment to make this line                quietly

but years of reflection to grow the idea                      in a town

                                                                                                 or caravan

I hate the closed line                          the belt two sizes too small         

                    I hate the frontier                      unless I’m leaving

but most of all I hate the constipated                 yob²

editorials about expanded community           alien air

& how foreigners are queuing up                      inferior water

to rape your dog job house granny                suicide garlic capsule

ward school & genetically modified               TV schedule

mad cow

surrealism led beyond the formal                  gym class

towards the heart of poetry            crossing language’s fingers                     

the joy of discovering what I’m doing          touching wood

as I’m doing it                                            walking in a new location

jazz is such an ancient  art                             responding to responses       

I feel the meaning growing                                 unexpectedly

as I work out here right at the end of my arm     a slight draft

                                                                                                   open window

the work must be open to obscure forces              October darkness

& folk from further east                                       over the A14

than Catalonia                                                      & Dry Drayton

                                                                                     one way home

Australian fungus                                      a stained cork

is as far east as you can get                as the earth turns

4

Dear Nina                                                                I think of candles

I had the honour of knowing Kandinsky        abandoned mansions

after he left Nazi Germany for Paris               in black & white films

painters politely refused to see him        badly dubbed soundtracks   

the critics called him a schoolteacher             sketched in dark bars

I remember his small exhibitions                                        almost empty                   

on the boulevard du Montparnasse                          aching

at the end of Reverdy’s famous North-South line         with 

those gouaches touched me to the depths of my soul     desperate

at last in a picture you could listen to music                      freedom

& read a great poem                                                                    integrity

Kandinsky swang                                                                     desolation

                                                                                                                fierce joy

sometimes his multi-coloured skirt                                 visibly

swirled when he stood still                                              glowing

& now it’s raining through sunlight                            forever

                                                                                                    as the

yours sincerely                                                          Earth

                                                                                            spins

Miró                                                                             gold

5                                                                                                   

interviewer:

in attempting to express dream                                 cheese

you realised that conventional                                       rarely

dream imagery was                                                            causes

no longer valid?                                                                   insomnia

Miró:                                                                                   dairy

                                                                                                        products

yes        I escaped into the absolute                              & the

I wanted my dots to seem open                                 digestive

to the magnetic force of the void                            system

& I hallucinated as well                                          are some

                                                                                 of the

interviewer:                                                    less important

                                                                                        interfaces

The Concise Dictionary Of Surrealism             between

calls you the ‘Sardine Tree’            why                  us

                                                                                                    &

Miró:                                                                               the

                                                                                                       universe

I wonder                                                                                             take

                                                                                                               fruit &

                                                                                                                 vegetables

                                                                                                                  especially

                                                                                                                  leeks

                                                                                                                potatoes

                                                                                                             & rhubarb

                                                                                                       not

                                                                                                     to

                                                                                           mention

                                    the unspoken                 words

                                                              imagining                                                                                                                            

6                                                                         I moved a few shrubs

                                                                           to the other side

                                                                           of the garden

I reworked some old paintings                                     two prospered

during breaks in the weather                                        another died

some take a lifetime                                              I can’t see the shape

some a little longer                                               as I am in it

the swallow dazzled by the flash                       I bend its rays

of the red pupil                                                      change gravity

used to be three times the size                           prune & lop

it was rolled & tucked away                                store

during the Occupation                                         force

then cut up to make potato sacks                      prick out

when I found it again                                           thin

this was all that was left                                       take

I added new elements                                          cuttings

to restore unity                                                      replant

the shooting star                    close the kitchen door

collapse of the wave function         cook   eat    drink

potato in its jacket                                   undress

a loss                                                                   age

without the restitution                                         make

of the seasons                                                               love

Taken from The Sardine Tree, Oyster Catcher Press, 2008