The Night Watch

(a draft here of something that came as a consequence of a brief stay at the guest lodge of the Cistercian monastery at Mount St Bernard's, Leicestershire, which, by the way, does not have a spire, except in Pugin's original drawings.)

Monk's Guest House

Some distant schools of stars in swarm

above a spire, and farm,

and drowsing cows. All meat and milk

in steep sunk sleep, a cud of dreams,

untroubled by the muscled tower's

electric prod, its bells' peals' starry tongue

this herd has never heard

since its first day tired. My watch face

says three and my slow animal wakes

as the bells' claw and clamber breaks

the burr and mumble

of where am I am. Legs and arms, feet

to hands assemble

like lines racing a plough. I snub

forward into night-buttoned, numb

promising air, head down

toward shell spills of crackle, side

slips of gravel and a door

homed low on a still stone hull

where a shy

bay chapel waits

us and the hushed sparse wash

of dark and morning vigil.

written 8^th -10^th & 13 & 16^th October 2011

© David Bircumshaw

For Troy Davis

due to to be executed Georgia 7pm local time

It says that Saturn is retrograde

and angry Mars in opposition

but not that later

today they will strap you

to a long board like a sick man

someone wants to save and

laid flat behind hushed glass

 

they gonna go inject ya.

And Gnoetry too

Saved

The blackness of the

world I had in the palace

of conversations

at the close. The water and

swam towards the light and there.

Texts:

Fannie Louise Apjohn, The Enchanted Island

Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Eighty Years And More; Reminiscences 1815-1897

R.M. Ballantyne, Cannibal Islands

A collaboration with Gnome 0.2

Sun Aug 7 00:15:49 2011

Gnoetry Again

The Sadness of Leaves

I grew to be good

and to hear grass growing too

in perplexity.

Texts:

Eliza Poor Donner Houghton, The Expedition of the Donner Party and its Tragic Fate

Woods Hutchinson, The Child's Day

Hildegard G. Frey, The Campfire Girls at Camp Keewaydin

Produced in collaboration with Gnome 0.2

Mon Aug 1 11:16:46 2011

Breathing Haiku

Vespasian Cough

 (after Shiki)

The snake has grappled

my throat.  I think I am about

to re-enter stone.

Note: as well as my own respiratory condition and the Roman Emperor's last joke, this is loosely based on a piece by Shiki, written shortly before his death from tuberculosis:

Masoaka Shiki (1867-1902):

hechima saite tan no tsumarishi hotoke kana

The snake gourd blossoms.

My throat is blocked with phelgm.

I am already a Buddha.

Becoming Victor Meldrew

Dear David,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to you because I have recently discovered that you are a trombone alumnus on the National Youth Orchestra! We are having a major clean up of our data base and are keen to reconnect with as many alum as possible and we apologize for not being in touch sooner.
   If you would like to stay connected with NYO and hear about our concert and be updated on our database please could you email me your telephone number, address, DOB and the dates you were in NYO for. We are also holding a Family Alumni day at the Royal Albert Hall on 6 August at 12.15 we would love to see you there. If you are able to attend please do let me know and I will send you more information.
  Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and I hope to be in touch with you soon.

Best wishes,

Emma McGovern

Development Officer


Dear Emma McGovern

thank you for your kind message today informing me that I was an alumnus
of the NYO, on the trombone, and inviting me to reconnect with your
orchestra and organisation.
 Unfortunately, I am in fact 56 years old and have never played a
trombone in my life. Excited as I am at the prospect of a new career, I
am afraid my total incompetence at this instrument, as well as my
precarious claims on 'youth', require that I decline your gracious
solicitation.

Regards

David Bircumshaw

Gnoetry

The Hotel Machine

It is a vast dome

glowing with a love for each

other. The ore in

the light. We learn all you are

in themselves so easily.

This tanka was created using Gnoetry 0.2 and the following:

Texts:

Horatio Alger Jr., Joe The Hotel Boy

A. Maude Royden, Sex And Common-Sense

H. G. Wells, The Time Machine

Tilton Cuttings

 Jurassic Huddle

Three bivalve fossils

about 185 million years old

looking as if

just arrived from yesterday

found like litter droppings

at the cliff bottom

of a disused country

branch line cutting

All

bunched in mudstone silt

like a little nucleated

swallowed family

Poised now

between index and thumb

like a calcite question

on the long animal

and cynosure

of this hand