Tom Raworth

i would be eight people and then the difficulties vanish only as one i contain the complications in a warm house roofed with the rib-cage of an elephant i pass my grey mornings re-running the reels and the images are the same but the emphasis shifts the actors bow gently to me and i envy them their repeated parts, their constant presence in that world i would be eight people each inhabiting the others’ dreams walking through corridors of glass framed pages telling each other the final lines of letters picking fruit in one dream and storing it in another only as one i contain the complications and the images are the same, their constant presence in that world the actors bow gently to me and envy my grey mornings i would be eight people with the rib-cage of an elephant picking fruit in a warm house above actors bowing re-running the reels of my presence in this world the difficulties vanish and the images are the same eight people, glass corridors, page lines repeated inhabiting grey mornings roofed with my complications only as one walking gently storing my dream

But I have been familiar with ruins too long to dislike desolation. (Lord Byron, November 1816) what happens in any sovereign body is created on the evidence of the last head on its last lap those of us watching then, during the programme see the die seem to be cast to draw the teeth of our first question affecting essential interests they and only they had she was dealing with an unworthy family gathered for death inconvenient location gruesome tired mannerisms a bit thick coming from her losing the thread of argument in a sinuous cartwheel drained of what life hurried out with a pushchair unsparing he takes us to the cabaret into patterns and groups contrived for distraction more likely to deepen withdrawal such a decrease in which women had views diametrically opposed soon changes his tune howling face to face cruel for people recoiling in horror plastered indeed by any form of social charges and interest it may be healthy to change the tone of administration in growth dynamics use of perspective attachment to things entail perpetual disruption of what space is for built up in absence transactions typically occur under conditions of heightened variations in taste spaces, isolated thoughts which his concept of beauty distorts to represent thinking and feeling life he considers in particular superimposed spatial images accelerating production of different times to control the future this book has been edited to detect the note of such preoccupations blue evening light desire out of stasis for jobs investment itself ruthless traders organising forces unable to stop the drift of imagination over materiality form an autobiography in fires of competition only to emerge stronger within this system of production brought into our homes which in turn form the basis of generating and acquiring aesthetic pleasure conventional these days cluttered with illusion based on writing remixed to demolish any narrative of the world within no image concealed from the realm of material accumulation and circulation in part as would be true enduring time by herself he touches her surrounded by models able to pass unrecognised in the stream of money implied by a photograph where the sun never seen can be constructed crashing through layer after layer on a depthless screen with the requisite speed somewhere behind us thrown into the street patiently to see rotting pieces of car buttons working backwards against nerve junctions tilt her head towards her ankles in the underground light black fur gleamed off the oil drum searchers found a delicate bubble of oil sweeping through it pure oxygen dawn touched at the corners rose in flame lengths of thin steel drawn across dust shifting in thick time on motions playing out across from me not in sequence cut into the sides of an extension run below his eyes were tombstones ringed with razor-wire he threaded bright slashes of colour through open jolts of fear measuring, calculating shaking so hard a lump of shadow watching turned from side to side shielding us from the sun pale green glass frames disintegrating tarmac down to the tunnel of the corner of his eye moving on to some other man for the moment horizon of empty water locking him away inside and he wore two pictograms set in strange lines invisible in air energetically above them heels and silk scatter snow in the middle of a room swirling out of the mist bright with arrangements tainted too historically he had forgotten quite violent fights listening to the continuous pounding of some other thought looking at the surface far away down in a cloud of dust tattered lace about her she watched him calmly bits of it he tore off at the end of each meeting seemed colour-coded sparkling violently tingling on his skin holes turned round slowly in brown earth lined with age he smelled burning trees in darkness a voice came from an imaginary telephone on the dashboard shrink-wrapped packages soft underfoot glowed in the dark blinds slanted to make the match flame blast across his face snap shut in the jungle after the ones still alive start confessing flashbulbs go off her hand flicked back and forth over a section of floor he had heard more than every single word from the once proud ruins of arches in one outstretched hand an odd sensation included balance working to repair the damage of triumph on his face folded against the edge of exhaust fumes closing his lids properly needed great care she heard a rustle little numbers flew around trees tumbled across a moonlit field trying to reassemble his head again she blinked some sort of code subtle variations in the colour of her eyes a reliable testing ground gardens inside shelters shades patterning an idealised culture in one landscaped clump stuffed full of shells a version or remnant of something under a different name some crisis of identity spanned the world thought was the only thing to come back to acting beyond acoustics even when dramatic she always wore fancy dress simply cut and held low objects grouped together confidently into fine jewellery after the storm new scents touched by salt spray hardly dimmed the harsh light he sometimes pulled at his hair obsessed with finding the beautiful curtain allowing him entry never able to follow the middle of night downwards to find a runway with deep sides writhing under his fingers personalities full of energy order a series of the same programme cool for film using this knowledge machines talk to themselves maintain a very persistent buzzing as the signal ends in a dramatic freeze close to the border on a street with a few orange trees

(for John Barrell) 1.gone to lunch back in five minutes night closed in on my letter of resignation out in the square one of my threads had broken loose the language i used was no and no while the yellow still came through, the hammer and the drills occasionally the metabolism alters and lines no longer come express waiting for you what muscles work me which hold me down below my head? it is a long coat and a van on the horizon a bird that vanishes    the arabic i learn from observation is how to break the line (genius creates surprises : the metropolitan police band singing ‘bless this house’ as the filmed extractor fans inflate the house with steam 2.walking my back home the wind is the wind is a no-vo-cain band and the footstep echoes i have conjured peo ple 3.ah, it all falls into place when it was time what he had left became a tile bodies held shaped by the pressure of air were clipped to his attention by their gestures my but we do have powerful muscles each of us equal to gravity or sunlight that forces our shadows into the pieces of a fully interlocking puzzle 4.good morning he whispered the horrors of the horses are the crows the bird flies past the outside the library many heels have trapped the same way he tolls, he lapsed with the light from so many trees check the pattern swerves with the back the tree that holds the metal spiral staircase swings aloft the hand removes a book and checked it for death by glasses or the angle food descends 5.the broadcast she turns me on she turns on me that the view from the window is a lake and silent cars are given the noise of flies dying in the heat of the library    the grass outside goes brown in my head behind my glasses behind the glass in the precinct thus, too, they whisper in museums and banks

lonely as four cherries on a tree at night, new moon, wet roads a moth or a snowflake whipping past glass lonely as the red noses of four clowns thrust up through snow their shine four whitened panes drawn from imagined memory lonely as no other lives touching to recorded water all objects stare their memories aware lonely as pain recoiling from itself imagining the cherries and roses reaching out

a line of faces borders the strangler’s work heavy european women mist blows over dusty tropical plants lit from beneath the leaves by a spotlight mist in my mind a riffled deck of cards or eccentrics was i a waterton animal my head is not my own poetry is neither swan nor owl but worker, miner digging each generation deeper through the shit of its eaters to the root – then up to the giant tomato someone else’s song is always behind us as we wake from a dream trying to remember step onto a thumbtack two worlds – we write the skin the surface tension that holds you in what we write is ever the past curtain pulled back a portrait behind it is a room suddenly lit looking out through the eyes at a t.v. programme of a monk sealed into a coffin we close their eyes and ours and still here the tune moves on

joined harmonising the best so it needn’t wait phrase: the question are you sure? hanging three feet off the ground silent, absolutely quiet headquarters – we travelled north clawing back small shelter hung with screaming on the same rig blended in enthusiasm as the race approached through cracks in snow free-falling into mind alive with brightness shivering instantly into sleep changed, re-formed they run, they run with madness into chutes of changed values all of them conventional vibrations of division dare to refuse the glass lazily through long green discrete landing sites to a transmitting unit over the protective line wave patterns in space form black against sifted patches of moonlight birds move in the dark their faint contours singing small notes to the rhythm of a train so empty at this hour silence in between contains the words things whiz past once more the sound of calculation by indirect means receives its full due along the wet pavement human flesh fallen in all directions to fresh eyes something to do with the sky senselessly dishevelled resolves and fixes the foundation desirable to guard against relative soundness of approach including human shapes used by the dealer connecting them to a sense of common unforeseeable properties of relics considered in place so deceptive their firesides play optimism for its object without arousing constitutional tradition beyond the rules of the game hailstones imagine moist sea air disordered beyond it rise drearier philosophies to resist retrogression faster than anything directly stimulating receptors attention moves many possible representations inside the heart decayed into blackness fine details of the scene creep along for years hard to become immune to a predator silhouettes of participants dangle in their own data faint green clouds in almost pure alcohol calibrate the equipment to assume a more personal form susceptible to psychic influences does not contempt breed often in disguise? slipping past a window on communal stairs into faded yellow flashed with orange slanting through smoke swished into a perfect dome dissatisfied when calm returns centered around a food animal mastery of areas managed to neutralise subjects into waves to destroy communication more easily on scanty pasture

(for Ed and Jenny) greetings as the door opened ticking please listen to this food alone for all the f.b.i. will continue maybe you dozed off i hung by that phone all night suppose he talks * vida later aria * once upon a time not looking for any thing * you’re on your own it’s off it’s on * perhaps it means ragged like that golda my-yeer pre-meer * and pour the old box down a drain * too  much news said the news * r e  o l e * it’s us or rust listener * deep personal regret looking up monday * we can save your head or your body we can shave * even his admission is a subtle lie * in suspense what is cut into the smallest of the * grinding to fill a prescription * drum to the wobble and a roll on the sea come to mind an article of light distance through distance unfinished * piano * willing to believe * national anthem hearer * perfect rhyme to some all cars kept in doors * sophisticated newsmen show how it could have been * retreat from the swiss legation * numbers for an event * corruption why not? * infinite detail is no more real * thought against power * answer it * hooked to just another piece of tape hooked to just one more little piece of tape * through words in to no record * writer righter riter * am: i on replay? * all you do is expand the system * a polaroid of la with the wrong voice print * astronaut amazed at what was expected