Mark Dickinson
From SOILED
i
Bee spattered rundown
fading hover pit lovingly
drenched in shit
Backlit scene stripper of
sullied ruin in morning
gladness
Flood mingled heroes of
timothy dripping tat-
tered threadbare she-
aves the honest squalor
promised to the spirit
stained with harm
spit whispered to addled
throes punky with capital
the sodden grime whose
myths record what I
have done tied up in
trust
these opaque throats of
gods align dis-
tasteful sacrifice.
*
Balls deep screaming
your unwanted
speculum
insert flood mingled
diatribe soiling the ashes
where I believe in
violating rights
Stretching down fist
clamour streaming love
in our rugged cell ass-
ault in the grey grass
rimming the crust of
banality
*
Experience the front
bursting into tears at the
dreary inter-
course of human
darkness degrading the
joy of deep forms
sweating the golden
stream after the mind is
blown Crossing the ditch
our
ass
ets hitched upon the
moon and turn again to
itch our deep ecology.
i
Bee spattered rundown
fading hover pit lovingly
drenched in shit
Backlit scene stripper of
sullied ruin in morning
gladness
Flood mingled heroes of
timothy dripping tat-
tered threadbare she-
aves the honest squalor
promised to the spirit
stained with harm
spit whispered to addled
throes punky with capital
the sodden grime whose
myths record what I
have done tied up in
trust
these opaque throats of
gods align dis-
tasteful sacrifice.
*
Balls deep screaming
your unwanted
speculum
insert flood mingled
diatribe soiling the ashes
where I believe in
violating rights
Stretching down fist
clamour streaming love
in our rugged cell ass-
ault in the grey grass
rimming the crust of
banality
*
Experience the front
bursting into tears at the
dreary inter-
course of human
darkness degrading the
joy of deep forms
sweating the golden
stream after the mind is
blown Crossing the ditch
our
ass
ets hitched upon the
moon and turn again to
itch our deep ecology.
FURTHER ENTANGLEMENTS
I stretched from dromos, in fact slate in the rain, backing up
tree files on oceans rim, echoing walks between odd things of
turning.
Welling among the bogus at the forest of suggestibility,
awkward interlocutor, controlling the environment, tech-
nically called possession.
Along the beaten way the perpetual centre had shrivelled,
meaning a meaning that was trembling stone-delete north
toward those frozen stars.
Noise confirmed existence shifting through the collective,
where diesel and phosphorus tread.
Behold the thronging quietness of sea-winds water-hooks,
their steep swelling whisper, peaks of sky, fused in the stars lit
dew.
Out from the breaks, carefully swept, a tone before guardians’
enlip a gleam of lights glance, happily teetering on delusion.
Cut along its seam; such is the seeming mist, weighing upon a
trembling breath, floating through the dark light breathless.
Solemn voices wavering, dividing the light, where feathering
lisps between the gaps of futures out to the sea.
Copyright © Mark Dickinson 2016
Mark Dickinson’s first full-length collection, Tender Geometries, was published last year by Shearsman.
He also contributed to The Ground Aslant: An Anthology of Radical Landscape Poetry, also from
Shearsman. He lives with his wife and two daughters in Orkney.
He also contributed to The Ground Aslant: An Anthology of Radical Landscape Poetry, also from
Shearsman. He lives with his wife and two daughters in Orkney.