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This is JACKET # 14 - July 2001   |   # 14  Contents   |   Homepage   |

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Richard Caddel

5 Career Moves Negotiated In The Dark On A Back Step In Northern Europe


This heavy slab. Our memory,
tone of our plant life trained
to go round it. Beat
it out and we pulse

together, it's a wonder
we don't rave daily. Whack!
Whack! go another's
psychotic dreams, the sad

sky path we all must walk.
Light goes, it does, now, so
stars show, us under them,
breathing, apart, blessed.


Sky at night, who can fathom it?
We all can. A chinese
smile takes me out of myself, these
downers lifted by shining

my teeth, jumping in planetary
time. If you love me
you love its sound, this faint breeze
and its eternal traffic noise

vibrating. No need for gods, we
breathing this age daily
and after all this time
the shapes we sense are new.


The deep throb of cello. Water
becomes us all, our
starry selves. That we could
lose so much and still

live. 43% proof is pure
belief, clarinets below the
surface of our breathing  —   in,
and out. Memory will

drop from us but never
completely. Snuff this
dark varnish liquid, life. We
love it. Let it go.


Young girls laugh in the lane, a word
like that giggle doesn't exist.
Out of a lexicon of reedy days
release this pavement of colour.

Supplier: here is a thirst, a bloom
lightness blown past me
to the stars, won't be quenched. And a glass
slab to keep us from forever.

So long, so longing, violin tone and
spirits to breathe
together, these young colours
tied and gathered in a bunch.


Traffic noise silent. We listen
awed to plopping of heavy stones.
Thunk! Blockaded as we are, we drink
extemporary horn solos as we

sit out late with sinal and dental
headaches. Here's a flower
we'd all forgotten, from a pot
marked nightmare. When we're

finally tired, we sleep like children. So
breathing it reaches at last
to an argued form of blessedness, a
silvered road deep to stars.

First printed in The Paper #1, ed. David Kennedy, December 2000
29 Vickers Road, Firth Park, Sheffield, S5 6UY UK

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This issue of Jacket is a co-production with SALT magazine,
an international journal of poetry and poetics, edited by John Kinsella
PO Box 937, Great Wilbraham, Cambridge PDO, CB1 5JX United Kingdom

This material is copyright © Richard Caddel and Jacket magazine and SALT magazine 2001
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