{"id":8882,"date":"2017-12-13T20:05:03","date_gmt":"2017-12-13T19:05:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=8882"},"modified":"2017-12-22T18:56:24","modified_gmt":"2017-12-22T17:56:24","slug":"three-poems-28","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=8882","title":{"rendered":"Three poems"},"content":{"rendered":"

Goldfinch<\/h4>\n

for Jack Thacker<\/em><\/p>\n

Soundbitesize memories belong not to goldfish
\nbut to us, who are probably not goldfish. Cultish<\/p>\n

devotion to culling one tiddly square of lichen.
\nA view not to my liking: goldfinch \u2013 nugget-chicken,<\/p>\n

cocoa with notes of jam and custard,
\ncandied pine cone built out of a buzzard \u2013<\/p>\n

says Buzz off, biohazard<\/em>; won’t buzz me in.
\nAn angel\u2019s branding-bastard rusting in Edenic rain. <\/p>\n

Of the two finches glimpsed in the garden
\nI can filch no vocab to farewell the gone one.<\/p>\n

This other\u2019s a bother. Riffling Some Trees<\/em>,
\nhanging around like wind broken in cemeteries,<\/p>\n

picking pinched harmonies to a twig\u2019s first snap:
\nstartle, nut, nettle-sting. Snub. Unsatisfied sap. <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A Light for Leonard Cohen<\/h4>\n

I believe that I heard my father sing,
\nwhen I was seventeen
\nor so, some lines from \u2018Master Song\u2019.
\nSevere, the sovereignty<\/p>\n

of his office board room. Today, I assume,
\nwe die, tomorrow love one another;
\nAuden\u2019s \u2018affirming flame\u2019
\nin part the agony of and<\/em> or or<\/em>.<\/p>\n

A sunbird, plumage bound in smoke,
\nblinds itself for its night journey.
\nA poem unread will regardless make
\ngood on its premise. One word, churning.<\/p>\n

You: I would love to see those matches flare.<\/em>
\nThe poem: Thanks for the song, Eliezer.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Of Parting Day<\/h4>\n

A farting spray: the ocean\u2019s flies,
\nunbuttoned or untoothed, advance
\ntheir shame against the ebb, the iv-
\nory and orts of meat sans<\/em> feels.<\/p>\n

I sigh, and stalk in high dismay
\nmy tower of dead elephants
\nand look out on your tower of live
\nkilometres of wave away.<\/p>\n

Diverse alarms and doves all set,
\nI ring the bell whose neck is wrung,
\nwhose mouth is soft with Nelly dung.
\nKilometres of waving jet.<\/p>\n

We\u2019re born to build. We die to spill.
\nThe curfew tolling love, zip, nil.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Goldfinch for Jack Thacker Soundbitesize memories belong not to goldfish but to us, who are probably not goldfish. Cultish devotion to culling one tiddly square of lichen. A view not to my liking: goldfinch \u2013 nugget-chicken, cocoa with notes of jam and custard, candied pine cone built out of a buzzard \u2013 says Buzz off, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":221,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[346,349],"tags":[350],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\nThree poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=8882\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=8882&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Three poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Goldfinch for Jack Thacker Soundbitesize memories belong not to goldfish but to us, who are probably not goldfish. 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