the art (from 'The Beak's Poems)

fair play and optics

at cost

an insight

at great cost (the eye perceives in straight lines)

dividing sectors, crossing the frontiers

like rain, sunset, clearing mist

on window (how is it resolved?)

divided

smashed and joining in light, colour

by such timelessness ordinary

distances receding (the ear hears layers of disturbance)

focus, refocus, knowing, like rain (what remembers this air?)

spins, rising, projected, condensed,

at such spinning. Is it any

wonder that it applies (the wind, the rain)

to both and whirls above (light following tile rain back

to the sun)

so many stories (charged and true each moment)

a people, a place, a nation (lightning, fire)

borders

movement, yet are one

so rich ungrasped (yet money and light stand for beauty

while hating it)

clamouring to be (a woman, a bird, rain)

against everything it was (only not the valleys, the rivers)

serving at birth asking only

rage against determined programme and is (sometimes too close

because of faulty reference)

is maker from, breaker, burster,

automatic from, unrestricted

borne from light, wind, rain

mountains on

fire -- things safe from abuse and distortion

decisive in spirit

step by step

immortal

rising