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

This issue of JACKET is a co-production with SALT magazine



michael farrell

Three poems



the king & i

removed the erotic from the public eye
its embodiment & i stood side by side in the
landscape & spent our time on the bible lying
down we called the public leonardo we danced
the dance of the lion & the lamb colliding
with the sunshine i refer to our many children
we didnt sweat to bear im orthodox very straight
very roundheaded i look like yul brynner
my manner veers from cranky to golden
sovereigntys mixed in us neithers behind
the other if were to fix our symbolic role then
aphorise against decay & convert our twinned
image to ideogram or icon yet deny escapism
an art other than the sound of musics called
for the idea of zoo & convent evident in
our facial arrangement saint beast rex & reg
ever chaste sexed ever read & yellow

’marianne moore’ - molesworth
’leonardo da vinci’s’ - marianne moore

the dingy swan

the greynecked bird didnt work out
the traditional wish went yellow when
the swan must fix
what cant be theres
nowhere on earth to go i love it cause
i get the chance to express my deepest
education in part iii i have unconscious
ly
banged the tambourine to hymns i
can understand no longer one of the
loveliest echoed
the cleaner eyes me
his attitude i cant guess i stroke my
self remembering its unmanly often
recited
to me i stole his mop &
bucket attacked the floor with
feeling which explains my redness
& heavy breathing in the afternoon
light expiring on the tiles on my
back on the souls of those now dust
aye sun & moon & star & all if i
must be taught a lesson by the gods
of love let me go first home for
my quill let me write my bodys story

’the tower’ (plus notes) - wb yeats

orchids

my tutor warned me against the
cult of the
red orchid they talk
a language their own checked with
spitted leaves the moon ellipsed
my tutor through the deep & dark
gothic archway were
orchids seen
on horseback the high flower and his
attendants whom the etiquette petal
betwixt the civil & military powers
they look bold in captivity watch
ing fergus kissed edward on each side
of the face how well did they be
come the apparatus of terror the
reporter exclaimed distorting for
the mogul the priest entreated him
to be silent theyre violent children

’prancing novelist’ - brophy
’waverley’ - scott




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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 ISSN 1324-7131

This material is copyright © michael farrell
and Jacket magazine and SALT magazine 2001
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