8      Precious, little rock

Before Alan dies I take the knife and head home

As the clouds fall over the rocks I hope the devil

will rest—so small an ask for the next part

He sleeps with everyone in the house—it is very

popular—but then Blackbeard fuels every brave blade

by shooting up the insomniacs with his madness

In Turkey the wells tremble in the north and 

the water rises heating up wringing hands

from which the Lord removes shameful gloves

The water covers that northern house now

the winged old music and the ignorant Yeti

leave—for this is the day of their demise

(Geoffrey Mark Matthews 21 May 2022)

9      Corpus Callosum,

A quartet of days live beyond the firmament,

For each one a wolf howls in a certain harmony,

Whilst an expert in festivities provides sleep for the occasion,

In autumn I learned that leaping has a certain power,

In winter I shrank from that dreadful baying,

In spring I met a maiden called Beth,

Yet by summer her shade grew so long it left me,

All wolves know to fear the marksman,

All marksmen know to fear the bullroarer,

That ally of all beasts who makes the earth convulse,

A proud God with four hands caught in eternal gesture,

His agent, the polestar guides the way of all things,

Four score times I listened for these days,

Four more times I slept in all ways.

The next mutated couplet in the sequence:

7        Mountain High

Upon rising from a bed of moss (to a dusty spire)

I entreated them to take of Christ’s body

And through this sarcophagy a remote contact was established

Five pine trees like steeples

Drank the blood red wine

And lumbered softly on

I took a stone lathe and forged a great tower,

I paid no more heed to whispering messiahs,

Nor the voice of the grove

The wind blew through the velvet canvas.

And from out it spake the echoey words

“Small coins melt upon demand (or request).”

(Graham  16 May 2022)

8      Precious, little rock

Before Alan dies I take the knife and head home

As the clouds fall over the rocks I hope the devil

will rest—so small an ask for the next part

He sleeps with everyone in the house—it is very

popular—but then Blackbeard fuels every brave blade

by shooting up the insomniacs with his madness

In Turkey the wells tremble in the north and 

the water rises heating up wringing hands

from which the Lord removes shameful gloves

The water covers that northern house now

the winged old music and the ignorant Yeti

leave—for this is the day of their demise

(Geoffrey Mark Matthews 21 May 2022)

The next two poems in the Mutations sequence.

6        City twins

There are no steps from crossing to pavilion

from pavilion to massacre

and no distinction from cyber-attack and murder

Three people

we walk from tall tree

to other tall trees

My servants (our slaves) see great altars

and make great sacrifices of their bodies

naked in the darkness

If you are content don’t underestimate the language

and don’t go into the desert where the tone of voice

constantly changes and challenges your abilities

(Geoffrey Mark Matthews 9 May 2022)

7        Mountain High

Upon rising from a bed of moss (to a dusty spire)

I entreated them to take of Christ’s body

And through this sarcophagy a remote contact was established

Five pine trees like steeples

Drank the blood red wine

And lumbered softly on

I took a stone lathe and forged a great tower,

I paid no more heed to whispering messiahs,

Nor the voice of the grove

The wind blew through the velvet canvas.

And from out it spake the echoey words

“Small coins melt upon demand (or request).”