alan hay

6 poems

the summer, five sonnets

1.

look at sunshine fizzing up in the glassand declining pearline and lenticulartry the trick of lightness on me raisethe sun to my mouth when this dropsthey will snap all this about who’sgonna destroy whom and with what hangfrom the neck or by it so killingly aslantas in detroit leaning no lane disciplinebaby the things you say are crazy socompelled are we here in rented lightthat the lawn whereon you sliced yr handwith a splinter of bright glass is dead nowisn’t it love keeps us moving no oryes more like summer to say yes it is

2.

the harbour lights wave a little seenight is perilous to the enervatekeeps oh you know fucking us upwhen I say break I mean break andwhen I stop here I am grey of aspectthere I am dupe of the blood routermaking slow decisions over by the barhere I am closing the door with a bangwhen I say beat I mean right herelaughing cos she’s not yet dead go byshock as in dark rum or green iceup to here and out into last year’s raininside the cab is brocaded and rustlesa park unpeels by the cordate glass

3.

I go to my bench all cryingcalled from and to the stepso what pools are oil soundswarning sounds tearfully afloatI push my eyeball back ouchall blurry in the back rowyour tearstained ballgowncrackles radio magnificentlywhat’s your sad place likeyou said who owns it anyway what really even is itpolice in our happy place inplace holding the zero outon the bench to bleach the eye

4.

we never slept instead it seems wefloated from the hawaii of brazil tothe lawns where I have been lyingin the shot dead position for hoursquietly burning oh i never thought the summer would break my heartor that the thousand year reign ofjesus christ would turn out to be ahorrible short dream in a taxi backfrom the knifing party where we justdied and the part where he gets itwe were laughing and kissing andlaughing and now I'm awake andworried for all the world like zorro

5.

uh oh low sun's transit's a drowsing lidyou massive slow blink of the year look ifwe can just get our outfits right then yeswe'll get through this season of hangingssomething worse than cherry crush icecrystals in the milk that cut the tonguespitting red as a freak in heat sprayingthe fucking oriflamme on the very air, yes?I use the last part of this poem now tosay I know that all of us so bravely wakeand smile, even in this slow dream coupour friends are still, look, falling in lovebig blinking eye of the year don't crywe're fine, just got the wrong / jackets on.

the dogs don’t know it’s a film

when at the touch of a limb asproximal heat trains the tidallight on the inner arm right bythe elbow then is my lip bittenstill at the rim of the morningvacantly falling away thesethings in the hotel room levitatethey quiver as prep for the re-hangyour hair spins / you spin / crash

a new pastime sweeps the land:etching names on door glass ofgreat thieves and racing driversout of time or constellations uptill when the children startto riot and their gauche slogansgo viral oh christmas of sirensgo postal whatever that means gosashay toward the klieg light honey

from streetlamp to veering streetlamp clang to tap at the gaussmeter; in an old fashioned hatyou’re a milky blue colour fromfright. Surely there should bedancing in the streets if a greatclown shows an old VHS tapewith about 20 minutes of hotI guess you’d call it uh action

it looks like she’s headed forthat mausoleum, to create herown tiny underwater world.It looks like all the water of theworld is carbonated or herwords escape the museumhalf casino half aquarium / whyare there always fountains

in the foyer of the dream house?

at risk at flash stop look sayreel back slant and limelitbristle with demotic hexes goquickly forward to the lip ofsmiling yes all that retro stuffhow did you get your uh namepress the lens out and listenup for the click it will go darkno wait I mean light no dark

this opalescent trailer roof’s ourproxy sky and only clock, sodo we say it’s cocktail hour?cocaine floral and nacreous?do not come knocking when,rammed to the dagger’s hiltin the white scabbard of my dreadintention, all’s a-hover oh do notcome knocking at the jump

cut blurred and where it seemsto leak out the NW quadrantof my face tears heat the eyeover easy just to think of heavena head shot a warm front roseas if I kissed you on the shoulderwould you come or listen to me as Iplay the fucking lute and purse myridiculous lips to whisper the weather

I’d say rain or at the least provokingmist later soapflake snow as we’ll behuddled by the generator wonderingeach alone if I kissed you on the offchance in the riot’s light so broken upon location say it is it’s rain it turnsto steam as it hits the light’s heatgoes slamming out to black and makesthe dogs go crazy and me go crazy

run fast in the streets young film starparticularly Lisle St lined with greyemergency vehicles as the hotelashtray hits the mirror the fishtanksplits the carpet’s red with flashingisobars and so the dogs do muscleup their fisted skulls to swivel, gawpand see the vastly torpid retching ofthe starry sky they don’t know it’s a film