POEPASS TRYPORT

I

the book of poetry is full of a crushed
poet the pages are littered with his bits

& bones & guts the black frame of him
illumined with blood bronze & golds by slow

decaying process the hot smell of print
coming off the stone-white page each

page an ever new er version of a poet's
skull another poet who owned a girl's

name took her name apart and re-built
a city of feelings on a single sheet of pale

yellow A5 she bound this lit city be
tween a sea & a star-filled print -eater The

Prynne teater like God told stars to blink
as voices trying (for) sound & the poetry

book of human bits began to growl an alpha
bet of creatures & sphinxes it was a mermaid

that finely read a girl's city & the man's
poem-body all stitched up with a thing

ness of an other same world


II

is break neck red containing a flitter of
where abouts each stamp is the gong
of a land & The World you fled is

clamped on the decorated pages as you pass
through one portal(l) to a next & by going
through your own photo graph begin abroad

is another else & be queen or king of a
region of stray(nge) bones moving fur
ther away from home the passport will be

benign with its red jacket & crown engraved
on its retina moments the hologram will
prove it's you away from yourself & some

where you were and are not now and are now
going from as you go into the pages are
crinkled on the passport's spoken breakneck at

customs you will be as asked asked to expose
a bone page so a whole nation can stamp into
your DNA the proof that you came from else

& from where & stayed & left having left scurf


III

the book of poetry full of break neck crushed
-poet-red containing a flitter pages littered
with whereabouts his bits & bones & guts is
the gong of the land black from him fled the

world you clamped illumined with blood on
the decorated pages bronze & gold as you pass
through being you through one the slow
decaying process – the portal to the next hot

smell of print going through your own won
coming off a stone wear photos begin a broad
page each page is another else & be a new
version of a poet's queen or king skull another

region of stained bones a girl's name took moving
further away her name apart of the built home
& passport will a city of feeling be benign with
its red single sheet of A5 jacket & crown en

graved bound this city on its retina moments
a sea & star-filled hologram will prove the print
you away from yourself like god told stars you
somewhere you were not blink like voices trying

going from you for sound & poetry go into the
pages' book of human bits crinkled on the passports
begin to growl an alphabet spoken breakneck
creatures & sphinx's at customs you will be



a mermaid that asked to expose a bone finally
read the girl's page to a whole nation a city of
man can stamp into DNA a poem-body all stitched
the proof that you came up with the thingness from

else & where & stayed of another same world left

having left a scruff






SHEDDING
For Janet

wearing the warm wind wearing away

at me wearing at some way the oldest
rocks hornstone printing into my back

-skin the wind's warm torn voices roll
in my ears guttural but spacious rush hush

weaving my brain 's surface to rippling salt
y see the wind's empty shiatsu hands loll

my head my face a dish to the sun fill
ing with light's collected distance Leicester

in its bowl below Bradgate high g round
as majestic as Sydney today soft September

glints a mother-board processing people my
eyes close over now wearing the warm wind

tears on my skin tears at my skin the wind
rooting up my nostrils rips off my face over

& over & over again my mask stretched
with the wind my skin a flapping flag ever

lengthening the wind copies my expressions
over & over carries copies of my miles

down an old land copies of off my face my
bones & meat & guts all bl own over rove

out & out & out a cross hope's vast digesting
space like leaves leaving the oak trees face

flung to air all ways


© Mark Goodwin 2006