16    Time being

A critical concept I have thought about a lot

call it delirium

the edge between duals

the host of hidden ghosts

A short time ago

somewhat less than ten millennia

Kremlin military forces and western intelligence

dazzled your guests with synthetic light

yes… several different types of sophism

Have you been to 1989 brother?

not on sojourn… I mean

as a no-backbone traveller she was

set-up as your doomed dream

ay ay aye!

I went bouldering and ache all over

what if lower birth rates lead to more like me

official sacrificial goats to welcome

with Inca carols… please make sure

you have napkins for these tingly entrées

Biting into pet products we can make-believe

we haven’t eaten our brain’s capacity

when a needy man or woman

wakes us up to multiply or to to to die

Finding out how time is dis-splayed in

under-hand over-hitched un-thinking

intestinal yet still in testina knots when

their use and abuse commonly assumes

a non-literature of rage and desire when

after years of studying long grass long roads

and long ago egos

none survives the panicky

kicks of the corpus callosum

(Geoffrey Mark Matthews 23 October 2022)

17    Anno Domini

Ayin, Ayin! Cursed to view through fluted veil:

The lyre plays tastefully,

Ethereal young girls of the fey watch the ox,

Quite by chance the plough struck stone,

And the flint egg broke asunder,

Draco stepped out and spake:

“I am here what wouldst thou have me do?”

Accustomed as he was to the magicians’ circle,

Yet no avaricious sorcerer stood before him,

No gloomy garret greeted him,

No sombre cellar met his eyes,

Lit by candle, book and bell.

Only the soft breeze and gentle sun,

Only the whispering leaves and hedgerow rustle,

Only the timorous, curious murmur of those fair folk,

Who scattered when the egg was cracked.

Realising he was not trapped, Draco looked about in wonder,

And turning to the Ox he addressed it thus:

“I think, my noble beast, thou didst not bring me here,

And that mine release is some chance accident.”

The Ox nodded her consent, yet where the ploughman was,

No one could say.

(Graham   31 January 2023)