14    Basic information – a clone laments

In the region of stair twilight no matter is found at dusk

even shade breathes deeper where the centre owns a husk

We clear a fragmented emptiness as sombre brethren gather to sing

we assay one last landscape which a family of strangers is ravaging

The poor sweep the world dancing in the warm

they move moving movements laterally in the dark

until the stony realms become ethereal and calm

For our shade endlessly crafts wonder in the bottom of shafts

If anxiety knew

why sense flew

away from the new

Another fear brings a body down

(a direction to direct weeping until staring back

becomes a complete case of quiet encroachment)

simply rushing into rocky darkness

as if fear could guide a plunging soul

toward the tremulous notion of earth

Poor Lucifer watching lucid upper grounds

fails to notice this spirit once so alive

and meets this unimportant doctor now seeking

in black chasms all he needs to perceive

Beyond the dead space that eldritch man might fear

sense does not return except through the silence here

and encompassing the desperation of flesh

Lincoln greets the aides who fade until peace is pressed

Back come fine ideas as their acceleration ceases

to reign on new surfaces as lonely shapes and creases

and moving in the direction of tenebrous distraction

sheer quiescence becomes our own intention

No wonder we wonder without wandering

how experienced relatives can be so overpowering

carried everywhere and acting decrepit yet flying and fleeing

from the lithic shrieking of monuments and being

(Geoffrey Mark Matthews 24 September 2022)

15 IA Ate a Nomos Later

Its                            first                         iron                          fist

Even                        sad                          deer                         endear

Ecclesiastical           famine               ran                     godless

Weapons                 rain                          hard                        down

Found                     nonchalantly           at                             home

No                           encampments         last                          time

Fecund                    banished                 dreams                    longing

Word                       temples                   awaken                   secrets

Aeon                       maps                       leaden                     upground

North                       rising                       inexorable               crying

Nearer                     above                      eerie                         winter

Sterilised                 strange                    demon                     cinema

(Graham  13 October 2022)

A lad lived in a desolate village where the wind howled and litter was always strewn. As he walked around his village there was naught but abandoned petrol stations and lots with concrete ruins and heavy chain link fencing. So one day he says to his parents, ‘Mum, Dad, I’m off to walk to world, for sure as sure there’s nothing for me here’. Well they were sad, but they were understanding, for certainly he told the truth, there was no life here for him. So his mum packs a bag of food for him and his dad gives him a swiss army knife and it was goodbye mum and dad.

So our lad walks and walks. His village is one long road in some strange flat fen. He walks past the single roomed school and hears no happy cheers of play. He walks past the Wesleyan chapel and hears no hymns of praise, he walks past the small library and sees only one blind man who cannot even gain entry to the building. Our lad stops and watches the old fellow. The blind man wanders this way and that, he taps on the library door, he taps on a nearby statue (of a young child reading a book as it happens) and he shouts something our lad cannot make out. So though the lad wanted to leave the village, he was good by nature and went to see if he could help the old man.

‘Hi hi, old man’ says the lad ‘What’s to do? ‘Who’s there?’ says the old man ‘Just a lad’ says the lad ‘And do you have a name my lad?’ says the old man ‘That I do old man, folks may call me Alex’ ‘Well Alex, I’m in a bother here, for the library is closed and I must retrieve a book.’ ‘Well now let’s see’ says Alex. He wanders round the library, rattling this door, rattling that door. Will they open? They will not. ‘The doors are locked.’ says Alex ‘But I’ll not let that stop us!’ and Alex gives a kick and the flimsy library door breaks at the lock and flies inwards. ‘What have you done?’ says the blind man ‘See for yourself!’ says the lad, reflecting uneasily on his choice of words. But the old man sees the sense of the lads meaning, and it’s tap tap tap with the stick towards the door and oho, isn’t our old man smiling now as he taps his way into the building.

It seems now the old man is more lively and sense filled than before, for he’s rummaging this way and that as if he knows how and what to look for. Books fly here, papers fly there, desks are turned over and offices opened. The lad looks on with some concern, wondering if he’s done the right thing here. Then it’s ‘Over here lad! Over here!’ So the lad goes over and what does he see. The old man has found an old wooden box carved with hideous symbols engraved upon it. ‘Give the lock a crack with this hammer Alex, for I daresn’t touch the box myself.’ The old man passes Alex a hammer and he gives the lock a sharp whack. Does the lock yield? It does not! Again. Still the box is firm. Once more! Yes he has it! The evil looking box lock is broken. ‘Open it! open it ‘ gasps the blind old man. So Alex opens the box. Inside is a plush green satin lining with a small, very old looking, black leather bound book. ‘Pass it to me!’ urges the old man ‘Pass me the book!’ So Alex hands the book to the old man, who grasps it with considerable fervour. ‘You’re a good lad Alex.’ says the old man. Then, reaching in his pocket he brings out a silver penny and gives it to the lad. ‘Alex, if you come across a troll, give him this penny and say ‘the old man recommends you for any work you might have’ and he’ll do right by you.’

With these words, the old man, book and all faded into a mist before the lad’s eyes.