Poem: A Poet To An Artist (For Stephen Kingham)

Take these words and draw them out

in a long silver line across the page

with the languor of skin and the muscle of blood;
the light of stone and the gold
of the morning city in mist.

Take up ink and twist these echoes into eyes,
forge a further focus, blur typography,
nail glass rain on to your canvas,

create distractions to describe
the gentle knife of time;
describe destructions to create

these words undressed and open-mouthed.

23 March 2003