Day 4

 Day 4


Clogyrnach


On English and other languages and appropriation and losing languages, language and place….


I found the form very difficult to make not sound like a kind of limerick…


This country isn’t mine, I steal

its meters and its forms, keel-

haul them till they gasp,

beat them and then ask

now they’re English, how do they feel?


Define and rule, don’t let them speak,

tight-lip our borders, mute the weak,

bore like bureaucrats,

claim that that is that,

pretend that power is technique.


There is a form that draws in clouds,

alphabets we can’t speak out loud,

words that hurt to sing,

the dull tongue of kings

used to lull and quiet the crowds.


England’s a ship with sad cargo

looted and traded   -  and we know

we stole our treasure

and only measure

worth in the value of what’s shown.


What does it matter, words for sea

what does it matter, words for sea?

These sounds run aground,

the  swimmers will drown,

but we’ve a hundred words for sea.


How many meters measure land,

how many syllables speak sand  -

this territory map,

this mouth-shaped gap,

this ordinance survey scrawled by hand?

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