Seasonals
Jasmine as skeined skins…
of liquid hers, by willow courts,
the lychee's water wains:
as apple-moats flush fawn
in russet light, through cherry floats,
the leopard-dots of dawn.
Branch to branchlet green
secreted more, than deeper brown
between soliloquies:
a syllable thus swims
into its own illusión..
skiffs my white sails.
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Other stories by Iain James Robb
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Exquisite.
"Oh" and "yeah".
*
Aye, to hear these mellifluous lines read on a gray eve at the White Horse. *
Thanks, folks. Matt - The White Horse in Edinburgh? That's the one that comes up first on search.
Surprised this hasn't had more comments/favs
Transportive, but in a way that feels unique to each interpreter. *
It manages to be off the wall and restrained at the same time
Emily - That's the way I feel about it as well. I was aiming for a kind of transparent, but prismatic, simplicity. There are fixed meanings, but they operate almost independently, and which each gaining different prominence on different readings. Part of this is down to ambiguity concerning the grammatical use of certain words.
I was thinking Greenwich Village, Iain, where your late countryman hung out.
Matt - But I'm Scottish. Dylan Thomas was Welsh. :)