Unknown Girl

You never held your breath you said
You never promised that you would
and winter rolled down from the pole
I watched the flakes fall through the blind
a blur of white all over town,
a frieze of time all over now
and took to reading history

and took to reading history
I thought I understood
but I was flying blindly
through the mountains of the heart
vain cathedrals of the mind
with the innocent and wild
all the hordes of shackled free
all the hordes of shackled free

Our eyes were bright with certainties
but life was crowded out with doubt
I set off with my plans and dreams

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poem by Jim Hogg
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House of Dust

I said:
I'm becoming everyone I know.
Chains of them wrangle and snake
into a starless universe.
I close my eyes,
eclipse everything that's real,
un-bang eternity
and there I all am.
I can barely be me.
Except when I'm humming yesterdays
in the shower in darkness
-a seventeen year old girl at the piano,
fresh from palming her naked breasts
with these compliant hands.
She's playing These Foolish Things,
andante
and we're in God's house -
well, an outpost of it.
And I'm thinking of someone else.
I hear the hammers strike the wires

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poem by Jim Hogg
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The Next Train To Eden

..... will be leaving All Reason
just as soon as it’s all clear...
But I’m too busy thinking
about poems and Cathedrals
and beaks and polished claws
tearing flesh from purpose.
And I hunt the heart that sees it
but vaguely sense I’ve lost it
to someone else’s poem
to someone else’s heart..
And this railway line that reaches
flows too much like a river.

And the race is surely done, the heart is surely gone
but the train is waiting on, the train is waiting on

Our poems all approximate
A reaching for and rising
To those great cathedrals closing
On the echoes of our truths,

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poem by Jim Hogg
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Meralda Street

A blaze that burned so blithe and high outlined Meralda street.
Once famous for her daring, she was never indiscreet,
was never less than caring; she was shelter from the rain,
where both the broke and buckled found a harbour for their pain.

And I was welcome there awhile upon another life;
some would be godless, would be scribe, allergic to the times.
We dined on sociology above our secret seas;
I didn't ever mean to but I left you on your knees.

And left myself regretful all that Winterlong of course,
and when I saw your thighs again where drums beat evermore,
I ate my tongue, I filled my eyes and nevermore forgot,
and drove into the myths of you through mists forgetting brought.

Our western shore plays tricks on hearts and circled us anew.
You crossed the plains, you climbed the hills, you tunnelled and you flew
out over no man's land until you saw just who I was,
and had to clear your throat though you were quite clear on the cause.

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poem by Jim Hogg
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Straight On

Straight on, down a dead end street, down the throat of life's sweet dream
Get swallowed whole by innocence, get eaten by the folks you meet

Straight on like a taser dart, fifty thousand volts of art
Just like a chip inside your head, to tell you when to stop and start

Straight on to the ticking bomb, to big ideas, walk the dog
to myths like our democracy, vote Roland Rat and ditch the lot

Straight on like an open blade, an empty house, a rabbit snare
A window breaking in the night, the words you didn't want to hear,
a moon beam straight into the sun, a bullet from a careless gun

Straight on, with no fashion sense, no goodbyes and no last dance
a marble from a catapult, a quiverful of simple plans

Straight on into life's great wall, right through into life's great fall
Then down the chute and up the drain, recycled into something small

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poem by Jim Hogg
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All Walls

Sooner or later
all walls fall.

The fire of time raged
as I fiddled and fanned the flames.
And now, this plundering
for a suitable truth
or all embracing excuse
in the embers of memory

An inexpressible
gleaming confirmation persisted -
given to youth, but not to understand,
"Save in the tapestry of afterthought".
But, "The bride had consented
The gallant came late".
So, one day I took the train and left,
home truths panting in the distance,
that perennial love least of all
and sprinted off into the future.

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poem by Jim Hogg
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A Fairytale of Paisley

The road of destiny is long
And on that road a noisy throng
Determined me to make a move
To up my sticks and choose a groove
That wasn't quite a frying pan
Or too festooned with flames to fan
And so to Paisley toon I sped
Shy of romance, short of bread
And soon ensconced myself within
A one bed flat with bed and bin
From where I found my way about
Amongst the talent, dodging lout
Until I chose a comfy seat
In the Centre, in the heat
Armed with pad and idle pen
Watching eyes, and wondering when
I'd spot the girl with matchless class
When all at once that certain lass,
Almost knocked me off my chair
And left me twitching then and there

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poem by Jim Hogg
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Song - Good Morning Mr MacKay

'Just one more turn upon the floor'

I heard you say it in my head
Or did I throw my voice instead
To speak directly to the dead
To lead where I would not be led

The foxgloves grow beneath the trees
Along the path where traffic flowed
Across the trains and through the steam
Where we’ll discuss life ghost to ghost

I can’t distinguish need from must
It’s much the same with last and first
You warred between them wild and skilled
As if your glass was overfilled

With swamps and dunes and flames and frost
You overcame imperatives
But none was ever quite as lost

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poem by Jim Hogg
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Your House

I pass your old house sometimes, in the car,
or walking with friends, and I sneak a glance
at the front door where we stood some nights,
or up at the middle window. The light
bounces from the pane, strikes a deeper flame,
fades, and stars crash, heavy with memory,
and that gorgeous wound is open again.
And sometimes it seems there was nothing else,
except “what should have been”, but for folly
and the currents that focussed my blindness.
But not often. The tides of life flow on.
I know where we stand, and why we’re there.
It’s the truth of a crowded youth, where,
clarity never showed, never played a part
and where, for all the sins of history,
love alone might never have been enough.

The sharp roughcast has been painted over.
The old fence has been replaced and the doors
and windows too. All that lingers there still

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poem by Jim Hogg
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