Iain Britton: Dream Theories

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Iain Britton‘s work has been nominated for a Forward Prize for Best Single Poem and Best First Collection. Kilmog Press, Like This Press, Oystercatcher Press, Lapwing Publications and Hesterglock Press have published pamphlets and small collections. Poems have been published by Harvard Review, Poetry, The New York Times, Stand, Agenda, New Statesman, Prototype, Long Poem Magazine and New Humanist. A new chapbook – Project Constellation – was published by Sampson Low, 2022.
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from DREAM THEORIES

I

xxxxxxthe moon dictates

nudges us forwardsxxxxxxreacts to

the cerebral entanglement

of what might be magicalxxxxxxmight be

an alternative existence

 

a personal thingxxxxxxdominates

the square edges

of a loosely-drafted altercation

between observers

lined up for tonight’s

transit of Venus

 

visions create a very personal thing

we’ve groomedxxxxxxa planet for the occasionxxxxxxsilvered up

scenic routesxxxxxxwe’ve been included in a film scriptxxxxxxof peaks

rock fallsxxxxxxsand dunesxxxxxxa man’s cratered face

we share the dreamland of a dogxxxxxxcurled up in shadows

& vigilant-likexxxxxxa lizardxxxxxxstretches into its lunar skin

V

tied to a trestlexxxxxxthe showman

spins to the conditions of wind & rain

he viewsxxxxxxearth & sky

from many anglesxxxxxxrising

or fallingxxxxxxeverything seems there in his face

let’s do itxxxxxxhe callsxxxxxxhe gestures

with outstretched arms

he hurtles through the molecular chaos of blood cells

through a darkening red holexxxxxxlet’s plunge

into Orpheus’ vent

swim the underground pools

for thermal loversxxxxxxthe showman

unfolds hydraulicallyxxxxxx& hangs

like a colossal puzzlexxxxxxpreparing

for the next southerly blast

the next godbreath to stand him on his head

on his toesxxxxxxhis pendulum

seldom stopsxxxxxxthe weather

ultimately shapes the size of his heart

VII

he fucked up
one kind of infatuationxxxxxxwith another

her youthxxxxxxher laughter

the paddocks

ooze in saturation

the green sagging trees
slush down to the riverxxxxxxthe
woman

stands close to him

but she’s more than she seems

at the end of the street
she’s therexxxxxxhe’s there
conspicuouslyxxxxxxzipped up for warmth

they hug the smoothed off anatomy of a hill
pull at blankets of cloud

he taps out
messages on water

xxxxxxhe’s

had his sayxxxxxxa winter’s

vernacular now grips

this season’s thick white fur

XI

she blames the weather

xxxxxxblames the heat

she fits awkwardly into this picture
of who she isxxxxxxshe walks
beachesxxxxxxpaddocks
riverbanksxxxxxxshe speaks
xxxxxxof silences

of instincts which initiatexxxxxxwhich
clot the blood

*
she imagines
taking apricots from treesxxxxxxgrapes
from a trellisxxxxxxthe morning’s
sparkle from the sun

the woman hunts
for goats & rabbitsxxxxxxshe comes

fierce-eyedxxxxxxbordering
on the mysticalxxxxxxshe grabs
at a fistful
of childhood pieces

she’s only who she isxxxxxxpicking up

sounds of distant harmonies

*
laterxxxxxxshe will dig a trench in the backyard

for the moon

to sleep in

XII

this woman of honeycombs

& concupiscent dreams

lives

amongst beehivesxxxxxxpaddocks of livestock

fenced wooden houses

she contemplates what it costs to look at the rising seas
where people

flop about in wavesxxxxxxwho surf the tides

where expressionsxxxxxxcollide

*

she likes the sunlight the taste of wild honey
she likes sharing surreal thoughts

& while the world makes seasonal adjustments

she talks of riding the burnt-pink sky

of reading the calligraphic scrapings
of a woman’s battle to be someone else

she claims she fits perfectly

into her father’s shadow

XIV

at the lake

you tell usxxxxxxwhere the sun
breakfasts on moonlight

where stars
swim up streams to breed

a hot spring
turns up the heat

*
your father
takes to the day with a knife
& cuts open its skin

*
hills & forests spill out over islands

over wooden edifices sunk in the earth

*
your mother scrubs her dreams
& listens to the news

your father buries his dogxxxxxxwe talk politicsxxxxxxplay cards
because we want toxxxxxxi make coffee

you give me your hat

because you want toxxxxxx& outside

a solitary flag

shakes off its bearded symbols

XVI

she scuffs at leaves
at winter’s fallen scraps

she has this knack of disappearing
into the still black
still white landscapexxxxxxof frozen ponds

& every minute something seeps undergroundxxxxxx& is lost

a silhouette
glides into a statue

tree roots shrink in the cold

the boy learns quickly
xxxxxxlearns fast

kisses the clay smoothness of the girl next door

winds up
her emotionsxxxxxx& they ride

their bikes between sunsets

they have no inhibitions
about what they doxxxxxxor where they goxxxxxxwords
pass from his mouth to hers

she loves the orgasmic click

of mouth & breath

at nightxxxxxxhe turns off the light

she holds his hands

he unhinges an imaginary door

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