hodmedod

March 28, 2017March 28, 2017 ~ Veronica Aldous ~ Leave a comment

hodmedod

old Norfolk ; hodmedod is a hedgehog according to the blind Granny .

Suckety on the rot wenfalls
amble sides up across the windy
mudpaths, is stuck oh-don’t-mention
the obvious accoutrements
of dogwar, foxwar
the soffety tics behind ears
the coughcough of shy visitors
the hidey of tinies, keep away

keepaway keep away crotchety
not angry, just terrified
sleep in a ballkin
is conker is not moving, not dreams
not witches to suckle

git movin’ boy! off!
or stab at the seams.

Outcast

March 20, 2017March 20, 2017 ~ Veronica Aldous ~ Leave a comment

Outcast

I saw you last on a bookshelf
Jammed between a greasy cookbook
And a peeling novella in serif so small
That malice was its only purpose

You had not been opened
But passed on, passed over, left
Half asleep, half awake
A trance of in breaths…

There was a lamp and its tender spectral gleam
The sharp tang of the coldest night
The old game of finding words
Some magic utterance –
I would’st I did not care
That even poems weep.

Picture shows my book Moon Cinema edited by Bart Wolffe 1952-2016.

Show your Wound

March 14, 2017March 14, 2017 ~ Veronica Aldous ~ Leave a comment

I am re blogging this in memory of Gustav Metzger who tried to show us what we are and asked us ‘Can we change?’

Show your Wound

Show your Wound

It’s a hat you can wear, felt and fat
Swivel and you miss it, if you know a colour
Is turquoise – not blue
The litmus paper test for if you are a screaming
This or that. What they call you is what you are
But not. I punk it out and sometimes
Take a swing, but why?
When the sea is in my coffee
And birds are just plain happy?
This is simple;
We live
We die
And in between

If you leak like trash in a backyard bin
All over other people’s gardens
Puking up pulpy ghostfear
In a trench of gnashing teeth
Just like a machine head
Just like a wasp caught in a hungry jar –

You won’t be haunted
It won’t prevent you sleeping

But then again,
You never really know.