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S P E L L S Robert James Berry (Lagoa, Portugal) |
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Behind an abandoned farmhouse Theres a watercourse strung with bamboo Spearing the body of a rusty bicycle. Where the water wends round behind the dunes Immune to clocks, I grew. That time the river staved in its banks I remember the mud flats stank at low tide The storks walked like constables And the eels signed with their bellies in the silt. When a crowing wind tousled the reeds I saw, tangled in the treetops, a rising moon And the river reflecting hills clean as convicts heads. It still smells of youth, the farmhouse my father built, Stronger than the eucalyptus groves of the Alentejo Where the skys azul blue. It has been like a conjuration to come here. Now I shall write it, And do magic in a place of memories. Robert James Berry (Lagoa, Portugal) [Return to Psychopoetica home page] ©The contents of this page are copyright protected. | |