Sunday, May 17, 2009

Adit

Adit: An almost horizontal shaft into a mine.
I
Crux
It is the nut that grows underground;
grows when the moon laps at its leaves.
Dig and smash them in the mortar.
Bind the loose tongue with its paste.

II
The Adit
You stare into my jambed mouth,
shining the glint of your meagre pen – light,
as if to plumb the heavy darkness
that lies beyond seeing-sight’s recovery.

I can feel your want to hack:
beyond heart; beyond gut; beyond bowel:
to grab and steal; hollow out
my foul and dirty raw ore;
smelt my guts into pig ingots.

Come inside with your fear
And snuff your little light.

From the cold clay of my belly,
on a guttural utterance I will
cough you out - and you will rise,
rise on my sublime song.

Snuff your little light.

Now: untie the tongue.

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