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A Poem Written While Tramping in the Fresh Air on Mount Robert, St Arnaud, New Zealand: the balance

Gallas, John Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

A Poem Written While Tramping in the Fresh Air on Mount Robert, St Arnaud, New Zealand the balance

I doze against the corrugated iron, the hot hut-side beside the slate-blue tarn.

Tussock slumped with snow pricks yellow in the heat: the ridges round, half-climbed with snow, half-climb the cold blue hush: the iron-cleated roof, half-melted clear, whose drip drop drip to me, my eyes closed upwards at the sun, seems falling slow into the slate-blue sky.

I doze in all the clothes I’ve got, red-faced in the basin’s drain, where motion circles last and rests as still as silence ever was and every inch stands side by side unstirred inside its bowl: the deep, transparent nearly-melt of all the half-passed hours: half-hot, half-cold,

I tell myself I’m ready to be old.

I slog out, step by steeper step. I reach a ridge. Thawed from everness and calm,

I see the hot-tin prickle of a yellow car-roof cut a crawl along the river-flats.

The wind blows, and plays the dry pipe of my o-ing mouth, which sings.

A boat writes on the lake.

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15 metonymy

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4 antithesis

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fragment 8

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97 Molecule stays a second night at Fossil Point

Gallas, John Carcanet Press Ltd. PDF

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