Painted lines
criss-cross this universal playboy
of the Polynesian world.
A strange masochism is at work
threading hot wires through veins
connecting me to him
to this epiphany in progress.
He compartmentalizes the morning
inhabits a caption written for him
for a picture
of his maidservant her dog her cat.
He explores by touch
strips of sunlight draped over a balcony.
He’s neither soldier
sailor butcher
but carries a helmet for his journey.
From the balcony
blunted-blue agapanthus
choke in numbers.
Credit note: "The Balcony" is the opening poem in Iain Britton's new collection Punctured Experimental, published by Kilmog Press and available from Parsons Bookshop in Auckland.
Tim says: I interviewed Iain Britton in 2009, shortly before his collection Liquefaction was published by IP. Iain subsequently got in touch to let me know about Punctured Experimental and to let me know that his work was moving in a more experimental direction - as reflected in the title of his new book, which continues the impressive publication schedule of Dunedin's Kilmog Press.
18 January 2011
Tuesday Poem: The Balcony, by Iain Britton
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3 comments:
This is like a slow dissection of a painting - beautiful, but strangely disturbing and mysterious.
I think that sums up the poem's effect very nicely, Renee!
I'd love to see the painting too. It's beautiful.
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