The first drafts of my collaboration with poet Ana Seferovic…
Oyster rain lustrous pour – shelling
on the window pane –
inside the room
it sounds as if a train is pulling
away & surging
(forward /onwards) into
this unrefined earth:
a nacreous landscape of water
falling
(on & through) the mottled air
like an old French mirror – like a hand
which has dug the field – like a tongue
which has lost a home – like a language
which has shaped its holes by absence
which has drifted like a wet feather
missing from the bird.
Home
is here but not quite here
it is not there either
and yet was
once – irised
inscribed in layers of childhood
nostalgia or day dreams
