Pete Spence

Seasonable adjustments

some noise from the town clock
and Spring is over having littered
the streets for months with quick
flourishes folding the air until
the toneless chimes stemmed the flow
no one was surprised even the pennants
waffled in the breeze and no muffled roar
from the stadium you could hear
a pin drop in a haystack you could
watch the clouds leap over each other
for that matter though don't count on it
the playing field is covered with flamingos
a crow is picking its way through
the town crier only speaks sign language
and the crows eye encircles the hour


Stray Light

isn't it quietly reckless to sneeze against the wind
on a brittle afternoon shattering around you
in feisty loops like the frown of an eclipse
or at daybreak wandering into a cafe at noon
confused but determined as pianos make a break
for it into a car park full of fenders lately adrift
O bovine tide O urgency weeping into a bowl of soup
the tide is out and the streets are covered in kelp

is it foolish to be in love with a door or a window
looking out on the skin of a dirigible flirting with the sky
while a deluge of ants invade the car park
demanding better housing are towed away
they'll be back in larger numbers with louder placards
the apostrophe of a shout echoes down the slipstream
a steam of noise placates the quietness
though who shouts in a parenthesis anyway

Pete Spence was born in 1946. He is a poet, visual poet, and filmmaker, and has worked in various jobs to cover the ongoing deficit. He is currently retired from work but not from any of the above.
 
 
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