where does she stop greenland? Or winter at Reykjahlið? I know an African who fell in love with Greenland it was a sort of interim love … my head pressed beneath her locker room door Travelling long-distance. For a season, the cross-fjord ferry pumped out Fela Kuti in the name of global village, we become zen circle, complete and interlinked. Where can she stop, if the circle remains unbroken - Day after day in endless circularity … and then the butcher bird, with its melodious song, heralds a short pause here, before she begins to feed on lizards and other meat in a crunch of breaking leaves satisfied and replete the Jul buk sated, disguises to hide the rogues bookmarked spines torn astray does she stay, does she go? hither – to and fro? She fades into the sand and fern-fall path soft leaf-slip, sharp-edged flint-fall to the downward slide dressed in her vinaigrette shirt and honeyed shorts with a vihuela strumming gently from the playa, the vin du pays cooling to love temperature, he knew
31.1: POST-EPIC
Released 1 December 2009 - 1 August 2010Index of Poems
Editor/ Producer: David Prater
Each of the poems in this issue starts with a line from a poem in EPIC. All lines are in fact comments that were added by readers. Scroll down each page to find out who wrote what! Or read the post-epic post-mortem.
greenland?
Or winter at Reykjahlið?
I know an African who fell in love with Greenland
it was a sort of interim love …
Travelling long-distance.
my head pressed beneath her locker room door
For a season, the cross-fjord ferry pumped out Fela Kuti
in the name of global village ,
we become zen circle, complete and interlinked.
Where can she stop, if the circle remains unbroken -
Day after day in endless circularity…
and then
the butcher bird, with its melodious song, heralds a short pause
here, before she begins
to feed on lizards and other meat
in a crunch of breaking leaves
satisfied and replete
the Jul buk sated, disguises to hide the rogues
bookmarked spines torn astray
does she stay, does she go?
hither – to and fro?
She fades into the sand and fern-fall path
soft leaf-slip, sharp-edged flint-fall to the downward slide
dressed in her vinaigrette shirt and honeyed shorts
with a vihuela strumming gently from the playa, the vin du pays cooling to love temperature, he knew never