nthposition online magazine

the diamond market, the man who had the least of his worries, the things that were beautiful that day & a parliament of saints

by Noel Rooney

[ poetry - january 07 ]

the diamond market

the walls glitter like gravity's rubies,
the blue cloth bolts, the cool tan hides,
the oil intoxicates, the beating metal levels
the traders, the beautiful people, the worms

she haunts the commodities, quickens the products,
standing behind time's wishes, the difficult ounce
shifting like equity among the leering scales:
the spoil of labour with a killer's tup

time wishes for now, the first element altered
by association, steps mystically metalled
singing a late lion among slaves,
a million machetes early for the harvest

history makes its excuses and leaves
a high giant over the suffering grass

 

the man who had the least of his worries

loki spent an instant age carving fossils
in cahoots with duplicitous rock. his
celebrity godhead is never in doubt

whether to stand up or sit down or see deep
figures of rain walking the window, causing
ravens, privileged lapidary hollows

quotidian, he dreams of god and grammar
and algebra and angels: canonical hygiene,
thick compliant mud, language and law;
four corners of the pig world, but here
pleasure has power over power,
a species of giving dative but different

first you parody and then you lack,
shiver like ash attending rain
and fruit, revising omens to a ragged crow
who means as he meanders, turning
wilful residues in petrifying air

 

the things that were beautiful that day

a dubious hero killed by a madman's bullet
is the mediator of choice in this, a template
for spring. to god's elected shadows he offers
a doctrine of comfort, complexity as evidence

of design. In predator heaven, where nothing
fears the knife, a poem is an act of violence:
here, love cuts flowers to the caution line
and the echoes are calculating in their sleep

"when leisure was law, the serpent laboured:
his subtle tongue tangled the roots".
  bastard time
strokes that ophidian blade, but has
an eye for the essential copular

 

a parliament of saints

blasphemy is abundant, heresy
abundance. and the people will hear all of us

the theatre is a glass-faced whore. alas
they have no word for entrepreneur

protect the lunatics and their estates!
our national uniform for your sacrifice

there are beetles among the lilies, there are
unknown unknowns in the pantheon