Alex Marsh: 'Light Work'
Every it is a pattern of bits
the Deep-Sky object's
ultimate significance
for Crow shaken
aerial, the Land Legs for
Launderettes last wash.
In Sleep debt
our Friend shaped Neanderthal
Is coming to save us
the clear spot
is Council run
so painless but
all looks
tame & sacked
in still availability
Our mind smoke
from Hunter's digest
paid Oxygen
for TV dinner
The Honda Prelude stalls
In the long grass
Franking goes to Hollywood
& all that heaven allows
fussed into submission
Unambitious Buses
approved coal
Barrows of slint
in sassy bliss
on Rotten row
A bruising
At edge of
Daft evening
our life on toast
The Proudest Wettest Owl
loud and fuming
as the groan sets in
to the trees
down the line
your sleeve is wet
for one calendar minute
then 6 crucial brews for
grizzly crescent
all my need is love
*
The timber lines of
M5 and Underside plane
glare of the Slow century
London will terrace
Agricultural numbers
or Settle for red accent
At the same level
We never see the difference
In cow exchange
another
LIVE idea charging
bliss below us
a road digger upper
sails off from Canadee-I-O
the folks songs of the
lower Labrador Coast
beckon over
but we never quite get to
where we remember going
*
The fall of the house painter
demarcates earnt space
between things
The bus feels heavy
Turns useless
our Chants can't catch
some rainwater property
filled the car
with sparked air
a drive to Nightfish
7 seconds away
A Capital outlay
a perfect blue
flew forever
more updated than
the slinkiest dog
over Deershelter
berries of the prairies
scarecrows of Arcadia
another achey pursuit
then
we'll pop over
*
Elbow room and the
Temptation of meaning
& now I'm in Poplar
kicking tires
pausing TVs
to make paintings
Could Swim in that time
With two dogs
Eating up absence
Sometimes you remember the sky
Telling great gardens of death
and no life is painless
in union eyes
every pill in every rug
came back to say
goodbye
to be sure to reach you
With other lights to listen to
Night bites
Thrown back into the resource
With a Dogbolter
Clay pigeons across Election Day
Concentration is total
The cactus doesn't work
In the Wet belly of
Canvas, Washington
We'll be here
Still missing Elvis
High speed camera
calms air
feel fine from
the wooden satellites
now alight
first the Work and Worry
department
then a Christian growl through the
long grass
got cheap to keep
rusty works
dowsing the trench
these
compact places
and a farewell transmission
no dreams
came true in
The Fjord
the great north
overtired
dovetailed megafauna
with pint o' thames
no rot
just dry
*
night harm
from sign not-in-use
a mystique cultivates
the Last harbor master
in tide basin
Shift happens
over heightworks
take me to the kino again
*
Sunned up fascists in the
fold
the fix is in
years ahead but
stop treating us
to tame death
sunk ghouls all over
dear summer
the slot in release
is closest to come off
ground conditions
in the poem
like
Five Stone houses
in cahoots
still there when it matters
an 8 year old plane
or 40 year old train
mid-evening detective
Bin spitting with
5ml of lack
The Sunrise dry cleaner
Cuts bend stench
for sing show
I knew you were waiting for me
Can feel the pitch
rim CDs
in a day
instant carries
the hart Of-a-hit
the special donkey
rolled the oats himself
Will the feathered friends
Follow us into the Next
*
Splendid isolation
reddens rec hill
Thriplow sweepers
abandon and ruin
3-tier-heated-airer
Some people
Some of the time
Enough exercise
From everyone
After the warning stops
the Sun cuts flat
a smaller gear ratio
Capitol-ish shadow
and tears from the
Air show over alkali flats
*
Swung into the Lateness
found climates of hunter
after
couple of rests
one time
those lights
might blow
small samples of
solo through
pine sluice
days crow on
5 air changes
in home leg
for if one has
coolant
then one has a dream
life mashed in Short
knowledge
dog runs for Jesus
lights the lights
more glad times
when nailed days
meet Blue again
tired is painful
tight connections
to cold streets
eye gel does fuck all
not everything needs
Concept
in bluest light
train carries through
secure lugs
for cow joy
thrown from side of boat
back into the resource
light woofs
against the sky.
Alex Marsh is a poet from London. His previous books include Silo Bliss (SPAM Press), Ten Red Mornings (Death of Workers) and Two in the Wave (Distance No Object). He also co-runs OUT ELSE and co-edits Ludd Gang a bi-monthly magazine set up to support the Poets' Hardship Fund (poetshardshipfunduk.com).
