The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
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Wednesday, 10 August 2011
Land Art - en plein air and indoors : Two Poems
stand in isolation
on a sandy inland beach.
I take a curving path
towards them. As I walk
they also move.
glide around each other,
always within touching distances.
Between their three trunks -
a glistening stretch
Most entrances are taped
though boats sail peacefully.
Covering a panel -
thick viridian green -
I blend in ochre, umber, several greys,
then deeply score from left to right.
A sharp tool
exposing the bare board -
a furrow through a tract of land
where centuries of feet have worn
a path, a highway, movements of a man
or men. I scrape
and scratch - the paint
is hardening -
the first score's perpendicular,
then drag in white
for chalk and black
for coal. I see it
as a sort of land art
grown at home
diminutive in scale.