alone along the furrows edge
the light wringing its greying hands
upfield where the acreage cuts
a bank of black alders knot on the frost
still stopped, greys buffering
beyond this hour in its rivet
a demiurge lifting---
up goes a black box of wingbeats
snare stirring air, my heart
cannot hold its gradients
grey litmus, whose hand is never seen
the far dots perform screen-saver
folding in rorschach sheets
i sense a latency, the pit earth beneath my feet
my breath in bits, its caché in stratus
i remember the wet clods hurrying backwards, till you
sturnidae, whose sky
corners then banks, as you hang in your file of iron
your throat a great ecstatic
jabbering distance, quarrelling sleep, the
black bodies meddle, searchlings coruscate sky
flexing my eye, kyting its field climb
our poles sweep by on a single sine
one wave uplifted, its ocean flying---
the further off cold frames squat
denying the wheeling emptinesses
fields scaffolded, ditched
hedge-combed, diamonded to dust
the ribs of a plough rust abandoned
the sun recedes on a blank
the day is roost.