...finally were false fruits all of them
it said “familiar” sure had seen
the seed was it in asphalt pathways
sure a test a female hardened flower
follow that she said with how is the stem
and well confetti for winter weddings
go on a walk let a wind undo
the quiet forms on a bench on a pier
try not to love the river
how to fit gibbous in a dream in a poem
gibbous was it not gib or
gibberish less than a circle though
more than a semi-circle said
of the moon and he said it too to
the astronomer sure flies on the clock
from five miles said it to you gibbous
afraid of the fruit of the sloe swell
after the first frost pick a pound
prick the skin all year good gin in
your my-writing a little afraid of
you she sang a little afraid of you...
Jeff Hilson


Kater Murr's Press, London, 1998.  Edition of 200 copies.
Copyright © Jeff Hilson, 1998