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                        Underground eXperts United

                                Presents...

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        [  Mudfishes  ]                      [  By Robert J Berry  ]


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1.      READING
       (for Ahila)

    eyelashes dip on the open book
    She is reading
    will not look up

    The words are printing tall tales
    on the intricate lace
    of her feather hazel head

    Lean long wrist     bangles
              reach down
    Turn the page
              my page

    She rests
         then her eyes walk

    A scarlet moon is rising from
                   the printed ink

    Her ankles bracelets shake softly

    This is for you to read



2.   EEL


    Wind bowls up surf
    Sand glass sharp

    Shelter under these knuckled boles
    Watch cloud savaged open ______

    After the storm
    delicate red feet
    pick to the ocean's musselpools

    Wade
         Down
              into the  rubberbrown arms
                             of sea plants

    Salt garments of the drowned
         Clutch rocks

    Eel
         stonegrey, a ribbon of gut
                             Sees



3.      WALLED GARDEN


    Painted pots bake on the gravel
    The latch of the gate is
         Hot to touch

    Come in
    Sticky fruit is falling

    On a jar of jam
    A wasp walks the sweet rim

    Black cat
         lavishes in sun

    Water gathers in one corner of the garden
    Stands         Smells         frog-green

    Brown veined leaves are burning
    Snakes hunger about the greenhouse

    and a          cold angel
         Thinks
    On the neat box hedge



4.      ASHES
       (for my Mother)

    Swing the mattock
    Slice the baked clay

    Flints, chalk
    The blade works through
    marrow of roots
    fashions the six foot plot


    Cotton seals my mother's nose mouth

    ... Her rings       favourite dress

    I do not know you

    earth          sun-brown
    rills onto teak
              over final flowers

    I am standing farewell
    Then      Tonight
    Your lips still
    Your mask chalk



5.      FINGERPRINTS

    Evening bleeds red
    Into the skin the pores of the sky

    Night's head is bent towards the slow wash of the sea

    Her feet moving over the gravel

    The Channel bills the land
    The tide turns a shingled hand over the
    Blue chin and black stubble of the sand

    The salt grass old thorny bushes
         and sudden crimson flowers

                        of the dunes
    Then damp open scrub

    Houses built here
    Dark peat and kindle backed up
    Driftwood burning   acrid     spitting

    In all our homes
    The heavy animal sound of the ocean's rollers
                             smothers us.

    If I press with my fingers in the dark
    They shall leave no mark.

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uXu #458              Underground eXperts United 1998              uXu #458
                            http://www.uxu.org/
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