She said that Aisling let her cut the sprigs. It is 3.15 p.m, it is Thursday, I am examining two rosemary sprigs their blue-green, their silver underlight. She is stripping the small base leaves from a third, tapping its heel, putting it in a glass of crystal-clear-water for planting out with the roses in October. I can taste lamb-stew with rowanberries, counting the trees– alternating Crab-apple Rowanberry Crab -apple Rowanberry that syncopated another’s drive— Memory insists that I stand on a bank of the River Tolka, upstream from Socrates and his garden of roses, those colours we tasted– For here is the place that we committed him to memory that black water– Glas Naíon, the stream of the infants, with petals, with flower-heads. © C. Murray “The Rosemary” is a short poem from Gold Friend (Turas Press, 2020). I recorded a version of it for Lyric FM (RTÉ) in late 2019. Thanks to Eithne Hand for recording the poems and to Evelyn Grant for broadcasting the first poem on 07/03/2020. The second poem in this short series will be ‘Aluine’s Gardens‘ from Cycles (Lapwing Press, 2013) will be broadcast in May 2020, link here. Poetry File – RTÉ (Podcast) Online URL: https://www.rte.ie/radio1/podcast/podcast_evelyngrantdrive.xml
Tag: gold friend
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Notes on panic Shall I regard the dark knowing it is past? Enmeshed in the ‘once was’ certain– scored, a stampede carrying thunder into my corridors, chambers, a knife– Revistant Pass!
In the dark I feel, dark edges pressed-down ridged— tight-laced-seals Soul is unquiet – its speaking voice is the sea— Rain, rain falls on all things— awaiting dawn’s song, her joy glosses |joy glosses| this inundation with light, pearls beads— whitelit, Green—
Small bird voice Pipette piccolo in a tall, the tallest tree How high it climbs How tall the vault – small-bodied-bird small-voice-vessel La sua voce! his silver notes at pitch tip-tail-trill He weaves his threads round, He reaches the loftiest branches wren-warbler carrying his small song garden-wide.
Copyright Chris Murray 2021
First published Revista Itaca, Vol 35, September 2021
…excepting the poem small bird voice, first published Gold Friend (Turas Press, 2020)
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eve labouring for 37 hours; the 'yes' poem Great monumental Eve in pain will bring forth a Cain / Abel Cannibal. Exhausted stretch rather/rather/rather rather/rather/rather dilate/ than die/ yes, So just. Sous justice. En vertu de la justice, Pour: (‘In sorrow you shall bring forth children’) Face? Yes, yes! Present. Hands? Yes. His image, who conjured it? Mouth of dry twigs the /sticks / stones bones/ buttons a knee-piece/ skulls the threads— There are piles of skulls pushing through my grimacing cunt, All the pretty things, the stones/ bones /buttons A knee-piece/ skulls the threads — Sous justice.
Copyright Chris Murray, 2016, 2020
Published Leuvre Litteraire #12
Collected Gold Friend, Turas Press 2020
Online URL https://turaspress.ie/shop/gold-friend-by-chris-murray/
Chris Murray 