Poetry Writings Artwork and stories from Neil Furby

Sep 24, 2009 at 03:49 o\clock

Mapping the Interior Eugene O'Conner

MAPPING THE INTERIOR



Imagine that you had a dishcloth
Bigger than the one mothers put on the bread
To slow its cooling, that you could spread
Over the whole kitchen floor to bring up its face
As clearly as the features on the cake.

You'd have a print you could lift up
To the light and examine for individual traces
Of people who came to swap yarns, and sit on
Sugan chairs that bit into the bare floor, leaving
Unique signatures on concrete that creased
Over time into a map you could look at and

Imagine what those amateur cartographers
Were thinking when their eyes fell, in the silence
Between the stories, that was broken only by
The sound of the fire and whatever it was that
Was calling in the night outside.


© 2003, Eugene O'Connell


Sep 21, 2009 at 08:34 o\clock

The Full Indian Rope Trick by Colette .Bryce

The Full Indian Rope Trick

Colette Bryce

There was no secret

murmured down through a long line

of elect; no dark fakir, no flutter

of notes from a pipe,

no proof, no footage of it -

but I did it,

 

Guildhall Square, noon,

in front of everyone.

There were walls, bells, passers-by;

then a rope, thrown, caught by the sky

and me, young, up and away,

goodbye.

 

Goodbye, goodbye.

Thin air. First try.

A crowd hushed, squinting eyes

at a full sun. There

on the stones

the slack weight of a rope

 

coiled in a crate, a braid

eighteen summers long,

and me

I'm long gone,

my one-off trick

unique, unequalled since.

 

And what would I tell them

given the chance?

It was painful; it took years.

I'm my own witness,

guardian of the fact

that I'm still here.

Sep 11, 2009 at 05:10 o\clock

Nearby

Nearby the past whispers

/the ages wring the tolling bell/

Big bad crow flies the arc/

flash figures ache in /

smell bedded earth/

now faces etched /

cobweb clock/

church compass faith/

drip drip /

the long wobbly vanishing line 

Sep 9, 2009 at 00:30 o\clock

I never meant

I never meant 
For you to go. The thing you heard
I never meant
for you to hear. The night you went
away I knew our whole absurd
sweet world had fallen with a word
I never meant.