The Boar in Summer, it might be Prog

And a friendly reminder, as of April 2017, my first collection – BONE INK – is available for order from Guillotine Press. This is one of the poems that didn’t make it into the collection.

 

The Boar in Summer, it might be Prog
watching
rubbing the nose of the boar
golden

talking obscure field positions
not quite catching          not quite in
field

psychedelic blues so unlisted
people don’t even know the band name

I think it might be Prog    I think they
might be Antrobus               the Fly Hat Band
maybe Iron Claw        a bootleg

they could be Sabbath on a diet

maybe nothing has changed

only the lips of Barangaroo
cliffs
a fortress tooled on the foreshore

our rodent squint                    grim shut

the hand drum         stutter breath
dull      trudge of a forced march
staccato      relish of a jack hammer
it’s a long  way   home
and      awake    I
dream colours we’ll never hear

 

Again, a piece from 2015 filed under slightly too odd to shoot off to magazines. 

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