Poetry by David McLean

life beats blood

the time we trace across night
to prefigure heaven, or whatever
we store in the box of dreams hearts
have and chest their horrible
hope in, is memory which is fortunately
both indestructible and eminently
edible, though we have not considered
what is it that nourishes us, just Sheol's
dust from the crumbling rotten matrix
we never mistook once for love,
like every other like every
m/other we drug, and lay thus
across time's tabulated night
subjects to the objectionable operative
definition of the knife, that cuts us
the sustaining memory is blood's
susurrus that is the blood within, in
us, the love, as the blood,
is the life



and shall the soil?
 
and shall the soil be bitter
that take us?
how shall it taste,
what attainture, what taste there,
when years are whittled to the bone
and no days remain?
 
it shall be nothing, they say,
and we not be there
when years have fallen from us
like leaves from trees or these scales
from our lizarded eyes,
like the tired blood that pours a life
tonight
through veins while days remain,
piling their remainder against nothing,
the haunted blood that fills this tainted vein
to wait that attainder when years
are taken from us,
the vagueness of that potent distraint,
the tears constrained, the years, the days
that remain


dreaming this dis-ease

we fall into our bodies
like the slow dive into a sickness
that possesses us
we forget heaven is nothing
and the climb back to
oblivion takes at least a little
courage, the mothers that fucked us
up past these borders bore us now
their bearing the baneful naked
flame they bear, we have
forgotten that candle at which
memory flamed the passion
red as hell
raging at our days
was God
Him we have forgotten
the candle i lit you from
the nipple
was God and God's
hollow tomorrow
when ancient death was young and 
new
 
 
 
David McLean was born in Wales but has lived in Sweden since 1987. He has
several poems published in numerous zines. 

 http://www.myspace.com/david_mclean
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One response to “Poetry by David McLean

  1. David McLean, one of the most hard-working poets in cyberspace! I enjoy your work.

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