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Poem from:
home more or less by Paul Casey
Two KindsPaul Casey
"Plenty sits still. Hunger is a wanderer”
Zulu proverb
We’ve come both of two ways
on feet of plenty and hunger
feet that walk from town to town
or bog to cliff and city to hill
that walk savannah in the salvaged soles of tyres
that carry all they are
Feet that walk the pavements of cities without cease
leaving earthquakes in miniature to coalesce
in their seismic love-affairs
feet that breach electromagnetic labyrinths
where feral equine ghosts strut
their glories at the heels of dying dreams
Feet that curl and crouch in the coldness
only to walk there, to walk back
feet that walk into paradise
on a road near a mountain of sun
where winged coelacanths spray star-infused water
across their broken arches
Feet that march quiver-sprung ready to run
through the trenches of near-dead cities
past the shuffle of infant footprints
long lost in swirls of a dead-red dirt
feet that tread the decks of Atlantic ships
dipping and rising on the ocean cornea
And the feet that stay still
Copyright © Paul Casey 2012 |
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