Watching Water Wrackets

Download audio file read by Glyn Moody.

Fat lads with sea-shrivelled willies, a turtle,
Rivers of curious numbers, the usual dog
Latin (postea vero quisque) — all hurtle
Out of a picture drowning in memories, a huge log-
Jam of obsessions: welcome to a Greenaway flaunt
Entitled ‘Watching Water’.  And where should he hold
Such an acqueous orgy but in my most-belovèd haunt,
The Palazzo Fortuny?  Venice and its tourism, bold
Young ladies pert amidst tempests, lapidary men
Called George flung lagoon- and sky-ward: they flow
Through that house as if a secret tap were open,
Perhaps the one in a room they never show.
An encounter, then, I just really could not miss;
But, for Pete’s sake, is somebody taking the piss...?

(26.3.94)

Future Past

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It could be a face from a distant year N
Thousand: some scathing Schwarzenegger clone,
A super-cool, super-steel android hulk with a yen
For plastic violence.  OK, say this is erron-
eous: perhaps some abstract construct — planes
Of anger scything hurled volumes.  In any 
Case, it is faux Fascist, colonising domains
Stamped ‘Force’, ‘Tomorrow’, ‘World’ and two-a-penny
Slogans of that ilk.  But it’s a toy out of gear, 
The lines limp, the colours dull-drab hues
Of blue-black and mud-red on a ground
Of soiled yellow.  The failure is in the year:
1958.  It’s old news,
Hankering after a Futurism never very profound.

(22.3.94)

A Chinese Scroll

Download audio file read by Glyn Moody.

In the top right-hand corner, descending
Cross-slashes and canted squiggles announce
A different meaning, one that the uncomprehending
Westerner might view askance, denounce
As quaint chinoiserie, but which, of course,
In the light of cultural relativism, must
Be accepted as equally valid.  And so, perforce,
The jaded occidental mind, distrust
Put aside for now, juggles with a new
Perspective.  Craggy rocks high in mist,
The long dark triangles of the bamboo plant
Scattering clouds of diagonals, meandered through
By the dusty path’s slow zig-zag.  Enlist
The mandarin’s eye: give beauty another slant.

(22.3.94)

Javan Batik

Download audio file read by Glyn Moody.

“Batik?” “Tidak.”  Snootily we fanned the pitch
Away in the thick hot sponge of air
That was Jalan Malioboro: a steaming, rich
Soup of Asia, Yogya’s thoroughfare — 
And the very heart of Java.  Not that we weren’t led
By the nose.  We went to see the ‘closing days’
Of the ‘government students’ show; naïvely said
Which were the pick of the lot, gave our praise,
And only smelt a rat when our choices were hung
Barring the door.  A trap, with sickly-sweet tea
As part of the bait.  We parried, finally, with a tongue-
in-cheek offer, an insult of a price.  He
Then it was who was forced to say: “Tidak — no.”
Outside, we savoured the crowds’ jumbled flow.

(16.3.94)

Icon

Download audio file read by Glyn Moody.

Light.  Holy Mother of God, head
Showered in gold.  Light.  Holy Mother
Of God, swathed in rich folds, red,
Ripe as blood.  Light, thrice hallowed.  Another
Look, and the humble faithful reap through grace
A vision of the shining Son.  But when I scan
From the hem of her robe, stiff-plied and piled, in place
Of effulgence there is only reflection.  I can
Read the image: a shrouded fifth colour of gilt,
Byzantine, stylised, a recondite architectonic.
It’s a shallow version, though, sheepishly built
On two-dimensional surfaces, a sardonic
Best guess.  I analyse as a beast ruminates;
They understand whom the Icon first illuminates.

(16.3.94)