Α

“Your skin will feel
Like orange peel,
Before a thumb has dug in,
Anticipating
Every scraping,
Till there’s nothing hugging.”

O N E

We lived our lives
Beneath a sky
Of vaulted emerald,

Produced by weaves
Of ageless leaves
That had excelled themselves.

By morning swoon
And afternoon
Viridity was taught,

And when retired
And closed of eyes
The green engulfed our thoughts.

For in this land
The trees demanded
Vision from below,

As over time
And its design
We’d lost the need to grow;

A history held
Unto itself,
And leveled off a while,

Until refined
And underlined,
And settled in profile.

Where every trunk
And offshoot hung
Appeared oversized,

And spread across
Old Helios,
And sheltered our eyes.

Whose pounding fist
And frantic kiss
Of life were kept at bay,

With thunder crash,
And lightning flash,
And all their disarray.

Though day did bright
To partner night,
And wind and water filtered,

And ample fare
Grew everywhere,
And herds were in good kilter.

But this stockade
Had for us made
An idle co-existence,

As business lost
Conveyed no cost,
Because of our systems.

For our toils
And few turmoils
Had been replaced by waivers,

Allowing us
To barter much,
And compensate with favours.

And trade was good
For those who could,
And even those who couldn’t,

While some were fey
And got away
With things they really shouldn’t:

Deep in the dell,
And hidden well,
Their pitch had often flourished,

And seldom failed,
Or met a trail
Of folk who were malnourished.

For it was said
In chattered words
That they communed with giants,

From far beyond
The furthest frond
Where sunlight reigned defiant.

And elements
Embraced events,
And swept away the surface,

Condemning peace
To a surcease
Because it had no purchase.

But where this was
And why it chose
No part in our recital,

Was not discussed
By people much
Unless they meant to frighten.

For such, these tales,
Were spectral veiled,
And mostly ill conceived,

And made you glad
They never had
The facts to be believed.

So heed ye all,
Indeed recall,
These themes when out exploring:

Don’t dally long
When you’re among
The canopy’s outpouring.

T W O

Now one fine day,
Beneath the sway,
A jobbing laggard rose,

And dreaming last
Threw off the past
That bade him to repose.

Some fortitude
Had crept into
His purpose overnight,

And down by dawn
He made it known
That he would seek the light.

His mother bawled,
His father called,
And begged him reconsider,

To stay in bed
And keep his head
Below the tree line hidden.

But bold our lad
Ignored his dad,
And laid his kit about him;

He packed it thrice
Until practice
Had rid him of his doubting.

And by mid noon
Left his bed room
With last words in a letter,

Addressed to those
Who like him chose
To leave their beds for better.

And with his stores,
And own applause,
He checked out of his nest,

Where he had spent
His life’s events
In misty coloured dress.

His name was laughed
By those he passed,
Who thought him broken headed,

But new found sense
And diligence
Combined to keep him steady.

While some did seem
To be up stream
Acclaiming his departure,

But once approached
Their voices chose
To ridicule his charter.

Unbowed a route
Passed underfoot
Until the town bar beckoned;

He paid its toll
With one bread roll,
Though it required a second.

And it being free
Of sentry keeps,
He left another note,

Which promised that
He would come back
With more than anecdotes.

Then out he went
Amidst the scent
Of elder places present,

Wherein a vast
And verdant cast
Of shadows rose to heaven.

And quietly
The boundary
Of all he’d ever known,

Released him from
Its opium,
And left him out alone.

By well sprung soil,
And branches coiled
With nameless energy,

He laboured on
Until he’d gone
As far as he could see.

Passed handsome gems,
And garnered stems
Of untold shades of plant,

And tallest grass
That did surpass
The finest in the land.

The forest guard,
Unfolding far,
Embraced him newly passing,

And all involved
As one, dissolved,
Before around him massing,

And finding quilts
Of finest silks,
To cradle him a bed,

Coerced him down
On covered ground,
And crept into his head.

T H R E E

Up startled, hard,
And clearly heard,
A shrilling and a fuss;

He quickly rose
And found his clothes,
But they were dressed in dust.

And everywhere
The earth was bare
Of greenery and growth,

And overhead
The mottled spread
Of yield had lost its troth.

The noise returned
And slowly burned
The skin around his ears;

He clapped them hard
But they were charred,
And crumpled like dead leaves.

As did his lips
And finger tips,
Whose branching bones appeared,

And just as they
Were set to fray,
He woke from nightmare’s fear.

On looking round
He saw the ground
Was just as it should be,

But something vexed
The forest’s text,
And its authority.

He dwelt on this
Until the kiss
Of day break called him in,

Then bundled up
His evening robes,
And set off once again.

Now pondering
Was not his thing,
And morning cleansed his mind,

Whilst following
The hallowed green
To where it cared to wind.

But as he wove
Through densest groves,
As thick as eager thieves,

The woodland noise
Seemed tranquilized,
And listless on the breeze.

Now round a bend,
From end to end,
And troubled recently,

A well worn track
Of foot step marks
Appeared suddenly.

He stood up straight,
And raised his gait,
And followed their direction,

Until the path
Curved to a graph
Of several intersections.

He chose the right,
To expedite,
And soon it straightened up,

Until a rise
Of smoke arose
Beyond a small hilltop.

With weighted steps,
And bated breaths,
He conquered yonder crest,

In hope again
Of fellow men,
And all their Sunday best.

And from its crown
He saw their town,
Though smaller than so-called;

He’d come across
A trading post,
With all it secret stalls.

Where goods exchanged
Themselves for gains
Of equal enterprise,

And creatures bold
Of chronicle
Imported merchandize.

So on he went
Until he sent
His sight to a dragoon,

Who bade him in
As if he’d been
Expected like the moon.

He bowed in thanks,
And entered ranks
Of every trader known,

Until the breath
Caught in his chest,
And from his father blown.

F O U R

Once lifted neat
From off his seat,
Where shock had rudely placed him,

He rubbed his eyes
In case the tide
Of facts had just effaced him.

His father sighed,
But could not hide
A look of urgency,

So quickly led
Him to a tent
Of finely crafted leaves.

And settling
He set to sing
Of honest fatherhood,

But truth was out,
And in no doubt
How false he truly stood.

So for his son,
And his patience,
He left and came back holding,

A gleaming chest
With ancient crest
Well gilded deep and golden.

Where by he flipped
Its splendid lid,
And lifted out a letter,

Then cleared his throat
To open out
Its contents for the better.

It read that he,
His father, free,
Of all encumbrance known,

Could shed himself
Of floral wealth
If bravery was shown.

And leave the trees,
And their beliefs,
Behind for evermore,

By treading fine
Across the line
Where boughs break open doors.

And into hues
Of rain swept blues,
Beneath a previous sun,

Where colours seen
Are not all green,
But every single one.

His son fell back,
As if attacked,
Or only quelled by death,

And reaching to
His sire, threw,
More questions with each breath.

Whose words were these?
Where from their seeds?
How did his father get them?

Why chase them here?
When first appeared
This desire to abet them?

And how come, he,
When spoke of leaving,
Was told to stay in bed,

Whilst all the while
His father’s guile
Was gamboling ahead.

His father blushed,
And finger hushed
His son for silent lips,

Then gestured out
Towards the crowd
Of gathered dealerships,

Who looked in awe
Of what they saw,
Within their hidden market.

As giants knelt,
And gladly dealt,
And caused a little heartache.

For recently
There seemed to be
A lot more than once ventured,

Into the woods
To bare their goods
For any so indentured.

And that was how
His father found
The letter and its message:

He’d caught the word
Of giant herds,
And secrets in their blessings.

And that was why
He bade his boy
To linger safe at home,

In case these tales
Bore worse travails
Than they had ever known.

F I V E

The giants spoke,
And laughed with folk,
Into the olive night,

Whilst father made
His son a bed
That cradled candle light.

They’d covered much,
And subjects such
As they had never shared,

Then out he’d gone
To be amongst
The gathering prepared.

He left his son
Time to dwell on
The evening’s implications,

With its parade
Of truths arrayed,
And all their revelations:

The boy’s old man
Had been coming
Out to the deep for years;

At evening fall,
At school’s recall,
At opportune all clears.

Exploring for
A myth’s reward;
A life times worth of meaning.

For one last burst
Of mystery versed
To complement the scenery.

But any wait
To compensate
The length of erstwhile debt,

Could not remove
A father’s love,
Regardless of regrets.

So to his one
And only son
He promised not to stay,

And by the rise
Of morrow’s light
They’d head home straight away.

And with these words
Administered
The boy made fast to sleep,

But once within
Its beckoning
All promise failed to keep.

For dreams again
Of burning pain,
And wastelands coruscated,

And now his bones
Were all exposed,
And flaked like bark cremated.

But more than this,
And emphasized,
Was where this soot occurred:

At first obscured,
But then assured;
His own home woodland burrs.

Where all his clan,
From man to man,
And woman, child and beast,

Burned like a stack
Of driest flax,
Until the burning ceased.

Then ashen blown
On exposed stone
Were all the forest’s clothes,

And overhead
A whittled thread
Of drifting mist composed,

That settled slight,
And clogged the light,
No longer jealous warding,

The old chartreuse
And ancient views
Of wonderment’s recording.

And like a sleet,
But warm and sweet,
And falling over brows,

The boldest sweat
About him set,
And woke him from his drowse.

He screamed, but held
The sound, and then
Shot out into the day,

Where all around
The sights and sounds
Of traders were at play.

He asked of where
His father was,
And each of them informed him:

He’d left the camp,
With giant vans,
First thing that very morning.

S I X

Our young man’s bed
Had once more made
Itself without his service,

With no concern
Of sleeps sojourn,
Or meanings in its purpose.

So seeking charts
To further parts
Of forest than before,

He set to chase
His father’s pace
Until he had him caught.

But as he packed
His camping sack
A fell hand rose to halt him,

And whilst it hurt
‘Twas not the burn
Of his past nighttime’s haunting.

It turned him round,
And pointed out
A fact he had neglected,

What if his dad
Was homeward bound,
Not wanderlust affected.

So bargaining
With everything
He’d left of worth to barter,

He sent a bird
To carry word
Back home about his father.

And news was raised
Without delay,
And sent to every tent,

And wagon trail,
And minstrel way,
And little known merchant.

And carefully
The traders eased
Him back into himself;

It would not do
For him to prove
Unworthy of their help.

For eldritch lore
Held their rapport,
With unknown souls, in place,

And knowledge keeps
Itself asleep
When being pursued by haste.

So sitting back
He let their knack
Of knowing things proceed,

As one by one
The caravans
Of creatures all agreed.

And as he ate
His breakfast late,
A circuit thronged about him;

With open arms
And every charm
Available for touting.

As goods were switched,
And often mixed,
But seldom swapped for worse,

And all who left
Smiled wide as if
They’d bargained off a curse.

And by the dim
Of evening
A grand bonfire was lit,

Where round a wad
Of people shod
Their tales of age old myth:

Of common sense
Lost in defence
Of countless contradictions,

Or traded for
The tools of war,
To keep it from affliction;

Of status won
With laughter’s boon
Before the face of fear,

And loyalties
Cemented with
The odd barrel of beer.

And on they went
Until the scent
Of sandalwood delighted,

And amber ash
Encouraged less
Of them to be excited.

So our lad stood,
As all guests should,
And told his dreaming tale,

And silence fell
As if a knell
Of death had been exhaled.

S E V E N

The crowd dispersed,
As did its mirth,
And left him in the round,

Until the slow
Diluted glow
Of embers slipped their crown.

And silence broke
As night awoke
Until, ashamed, he lay,

But fearing dreams,
And their regimes,
He let the twilight stay.
* * * *
An urgent shake
Shot him awake
Before he realized it,

But thankfully
No visions breezed
Across the dawn’s horizons.

And helped to rise
He met the eyes
Of the previous day’s seer,

Who made him feel
At once serene
Whilst equally unclear.

He gently smiled
And gliding, filed,
Them both towards a table,

Where food was laid,
And mead arrayed,
And privacy enabled.

With breakfast planned
The man began
Explaining what occurred,

And how the tale
The boy revealed
Had frozen all who heard.

As from days past
A legend lasts
Of ill received foretelling,

And that a youth
Will dream the truth
Of future for the selling.

And knowing not
The force begot
Will come to activate it,

And trade for pain,
And its terrain,
All beauty incarnated.

Our boy looked sacked,
But quickly asked
The man about his power;

The day before
When heeding all
To caution and to scour.

The man confirmed
That many learn
The art of precognition,

But not in youth,
Or sleep, for sooth,
And never with ambitions.

And older, now,
He’d lost know how
Of finer cultivations,

And guessed most things
Because the winds
Brought decent information.

The lad stood up
And drained his cup,
Then spoke of last night’s rest,

A dreamless sleep
Of instant peace
With no illusions blessed.

The old man’s shade
Turned morning jade,
Then evening fatigue,

And whispered once
A short sequence
Of words he’d long received:

“When dreams commit
Themselves to it,
then it will surly come;

When dreams emit
The opposite,
then it is nearly done.”

Then rising bowed,
And turned around,
And left the boy alone,

Who did not move
Or act to prove
Himself a chaperone.

But as he felt
His haunches melt,
And leave him to his falling,

He heard the sound
Within the town
Of messengers a calling.

E I G H T

They scuttled in
From directions
Of every known extent,

And even some
From way beyond
The edges of events.

With frothing mouths,
And fixed accounts,
Of what they had received;

Reported sights
From many heights,
Of giants in the trees.

Out seeking trade
Beyond the lanes
Of regular transactions,

With unknown gifts
And promises
Of wealth beyond attraction.

And word was caught
Of what they sought,
In turn for patronage:

A little time,
An open mind,
A station on the edge.

But no one had
Word of his dad,
As most folk set for staking,

Appearing to
Be of the view
That one less claim was vacant.

So gathering
His strength again
Our lad approached the elders,

Who’d run around
Their council mound
Discussing what to render.

For time was dear
As trade appeared
To have been set aside,

And more than this
Their exclusive
Arrangements compromised.

And feelings rose,
With vocal woes,
And tempers followed suit,

‘Til loosing sight
Of countless fights
A foreman stamped his boot:

“All listen clear,
My comrades’ dear,
And ease thy strained involvement,

There’s much to plan
And understand
If we’re to remain solvent.

Now first of all
We must recall
All members of our guild,

From every wood
And neighborhood
And lowly bowered field.

And tell them firm
What we have learned,
Of giants undercutting,

Then send them back
To every track
Of land to be rebutting.

“Then secondly
We must proceed
To find last evening’s giants,

And question them
About their aims,
Until they are compliant.

And furthermore
Get there before
Incursions are complete,

And nothing’s left
To bargain with
Beneath the giants’ feet.”

Then looking passed
The throng amassed
His gaze fell on our boy,

And beckoning
Him to the ring
Said “You’ll be our envoy.

“For was it not
Your kinsman caught
That first approach of promise,

That led him here
And made him steer
Well on beyond the forest.

And so it is
That by the rise
Of morning light you’ll follow,

Your father’s trail
Until you’ve hailed
Him in the deepest hollow.”

N I N E

A fourth night slept,
A second swept
Of undue reverie,

Then morning green
Unlike he’d seen
Beneath his childhood leaves.

A final word,
At first unheard,
Then urgently repeated,

And kitted out
With no one’s doubt
Of delicacy needed.

As angering
Their giant friends
Would benefit no party,

And all who could
Made understood
The need to be stout hearted.

So setting fair
Beyond a pair
Of limitless sequoia,

Grail seekers crept
Into the depths,
Beyond the market’s foyer.

Our lad was there,
As was the seer,
And too an earthy lass,

And in the group
Were two tall troops
Equipped with biomass.

The fuel would keep
Them in the deep
Well nourished from the dark,

As further out
The branches grout
Conspired to stifle sparks.

For though they lived
Beyond the sieves
Of ordinary dwellers,

The traders knew
Not what things grew
Deep in the forest’s cellars.

As they’d no need
To gather seeds
From underneath the awning,

As punters came
To their ballgame
Each and every morning.

Though one poor soul
Had trod this road,
And lived to speak about it;

As pure as day
Before she strayed,
But evening soiled once routed.

She told at first
How she’d traversed
A tract of well known land,

Until a hedge
Around her spread,
And started to command.

Its fertile roots
Appeared to shoot
Themselves in one direction,

And driving her
Along its curve
Therein lost day’s reflection.

With little light,
Or edge to fight
Her way out of the brush,

She strayed for days
Until a ray
Of brightness made her blush.

And so intense
Her eyes lost strength,
And forced their lids to close,

Until she found
Less hostile ground
Whose touch made sight compose.

Back home she was,
Or very close,
When trading voices found her;

Astounded by
Her clarity,
But scared of her surroundings.

Her brow was tanned
An umber brown,
And creased beyond its years,

As though it chose
To decompose
Before its time was near.

And though she swore
She’d nevermore
Reveal that cursed way,

The times were dire
So she was hired
To guide the group’s foray.

T E N

The foreman watched
The group dispatched,
Then urged his colleagues forth,

And idling
Out of the ring
Retired to his berth.

Where in his shack
He fast unpacked
Some parchment for creating,

And once complete
Turned round to greet
The giant who was waiting.

“Now it begins,
The quest for things,
By those we have deceived,

So take these notes
Charged with the quotes
Of deeds hereby decreed;

For as we planned
The realms of man
Will quickly fall away,

As ravenous
As scavengers
They‘ll flee their homes today,

And leave them free
For you and me
To occupy instead,

And take at last
The unsurpassed
Resources they will shed”.

The giant swayed
His mighty frame,
Then shook his head a while,

“But are you sure
We can procure
The end of our exile”

The foreman rose,
As if opposed,
And barked a sharp reply:

“The forest hosts
Are seeking ghosts
They think will make them wise,

Whilst my men race
Their tails to chase
What business will be left,

And the seer’s gone,
As has the son,
On their fictitious quest.

So get thee hence,
My giant friend,
With letter in thy hand,

And tell thy folk
The ash and oak
Will soon be stripped of man”

The foreman smiled
As to a child
Consoled by bed time tales,

The behemoth left
Like morning breath
In search of restive sails,

Uncertain of
Whose cloven hooves
He’d bargained with today,

And whether it
Was worth the risk
Of being led astray.

But as he fused
Into the roots
Of larger trunks than he,

The giant’s cares
Were being shared
By our young hero’s team.

Whose truth, the seer,
Knew to be near,
And tinder charged as well,

And at the back
Of the group’s track
Felt all their sorrow swell.

For he’d told the boy
He would deploy
The violence he foresaw,

But actually
It would be he,
The seer, who’d make war.

For such were times
When harbored crimes
Conspired in the woods,

And only strife,
And it’s cold knife,
Could break their brotherhood:

As giant souls
Once more resolved
To with the trees be fused,

And scale the fence
Of innocence
They’d long ago eschewed.

Ω

And organ pipes,
And stomach tripe,
And all those warm sweet meats,
Will leave your bones
At last alone,
And spill around your feet.”

E L E V E N

There bled a place
In open space
Poured into by old titans,

With bluish days
And night displays
Of stars enlarged and brightened.

Where unrest flowed
From all alcoves
Into the planes beyond,

And colours dueled
To own the fuel
That sprinkled from the sun.

For this was where
The senses shared
Their primal preconditions,

With every kind
Of unrefined
Emotion propositioned.

And peace was first
To be dispersed,
But found to be too needy,

And war was last
To be outcast,
Because it was too greedy.

Where refugees
Found room to breath,
But only for a while,

Then longed for home
Beneath the gloam
Where old light filled the aisles,

And wood extolled
Contented souls
That unknown to their owners,

Did not require
A chest’s desire
For elsewhere’s new corona.

But memory
Had long relieved
These creatures of supposing,

So they forgot
Where home was shod,
And dwelt without its clothing.

Until one day
A youngster came
Back from his monthly hunting,

With frantic news
Of woodland views,
And strangers he’d confronted.

Especially one,
A stall foreman,
Who’d said, in confidence,

That in those woods
The giants could
Once more take residence.

For there had been
Much evergreen
Since their old circumstances,

And now was time
To carry rhymes,
And spread them in the branches.

With narrative
Disparities,
They’d sell their outside world,

To forest folk
Tied to a yolk
That long ago had curdled.

Who’d at the drop
Of headwear swap
Their fecund scenery,

For some place less
Completely dressed
In life’s machinery;

With open veins
Of fallen rain,
And skies of risen light,

And distance due
To a profuse
Occurrence of far sight.

Regardless of
Their once beloved
Connected constitution,

They’d trade away
Their homes today
For private evolution.

And with his words
Promptly affirmed
The foreman they did meet,

In low landscape
Their plan took shape,
To keep it’s size discreet.

Now waiting for
Her paramour,
A giant chieftain sat,

To bear a note
A woodsman wrote,
And start the final act.

T W E L V E

She’d several doubts
Clouding about
Conspiracies as such,

And even though
They were high blown
They still displeased her much.

For since she’d met
That heavyset
Round shouldered forest man,

She couldn’t bat
The feeling that
Something was underhand.

She knew the songs,
She sang along,
She knew the poems too,

But in the thick
Of limericks
Was nothing of cuckoos.

Or lavish deals,
Or things concealed
Beneath an old motif,

Or changing course
Towards the source
Of seminal beliefs:

For they’d resolved,
In days of old,
To spread their elements,

And not to cower
Beneath the bower
Of old provincial tents.

And though they praised
A homeland raised
Amidst the trees of Eden,

She knew her tribe
Had since ascribed
To other forms of reason.

Once leveled foes
Who did oppose
Their elders’ wanderings,

And smoothed a patch
For them to hatch
And fetch up future kin.

And long ago
Endured the glow
Of raw light from above,

That changed more space
Than distance traced
Could ever have removed.

But recently
An urgent breeze
Had blown up from the clans,

And word took flight
About the plight
Of sacred holy lands.

More banded to
These rabid views,
Until it caused concern,

And even those
Without the prose
Began to urge return.

But no one knew
Where this was to,
So passions once more fell,

Until that fool
Went trading tools
Beyond the furthest well.

And though it cast
Some years past,
Amongst the forest deep,

Their plan’s slow pull
Had twined until
Its catch was set to keep.

And so she sat
With these contrasts
Campaigning for her vision,

Unable to
Contently view
The outcome of the mission.

But waiting for
Her lover’s call
To say it was a dream,

Recalled he’d gone
To meet the man
Who’d come up with the scheme.

And why was he
The one to be
The bearer of bad tidings?

Because, was he,
Who’d crossed the fields
To where their home was hiding,

And was the first
To be accursed
By prospects from woods folk,

And last to leave
The traders’ eaves
With news she feared the most.

T H I R T E E N

Back in the grass
Our five souls passed
Their first day of pursuit,

With little voice
Or woodland noise
To help with their commute.

But soldiers’ fire,
And times desire,
Could not the night refuse,

So making camp
Down in the damp
They settled for its use.

As food was made
The seer bade
Our lad to sit beside him,

Then waited ‘til
The others filled
Their bunks, before confiding:

“Now listen son
What has begun
Will have to be resolved,

In darkest night,
And open light,
And all will be involved.

But don’t despair,
Or dally there,
As I will keep thee strong,

And that young lass,
And soldier’s brass,
Will find your father’s throng.

“But once they’re found
We’ll stay outbound
Until we’ve breached our shores,

And parlay with
What creatures live
In lands of old folklore.

And ‘fore you ask
We can’t go back,
As that trade foreman mentioned,

Because he’s pulled
A mighty wool
Over the world’s attention.

He’s fooled them all,
Who trade and call,
He’s tricked the giants too,

And thought he’d get
Away with it
By sending me with you.

“But when revealed
Your dreams to me
I augured from your pain,

The features of
Those who would have
The most from ruin to gain.

So do your best
For this night’s rest,
And let your burdens keep,

For I am here
To counter fears,
Awake and when asleep”

And quietly
Our lad, relieved,
Lay down next to the girl,

And though he dreamt
It was exempt
Of any ravaged world.
* * * *
A morning gloom
Entered the room
Their slender camp had carved,

And deep leaf light
Subdued the site
Until, with flame, it halved.

With soldier linked
The girl’s instinct
Attained the road’s access,

Our lad beside
A second bride
In military dress.

And last, the seer,
Who pulsed and veered
In shadows from the torch,

Alighting still,
As chlorophyll,
Then blazing as if scorched.

And densely stacked
The foliage packed,
Until a clearing followed,

Thrusting them through,
And into view,
Of father tied and hollowed.

And round him strewn
The giants, whom,
On wealth he’d been relying,

With clothing stripped,
And tissue ripped,
And evidently dieing.

F O U R T E E N

The party, sharp,
Were swift to start
Consoling those in need,

Whilst those without
Were in no doubt
Of their life’s certainties.

And father, weak,
Assayed to speak,
But weariness prevailed,

So one brave hulk
Upraised his bulk,
And tried to tell their tale.

They’d foraged far,
Into the dark,
Down homeward avenues,

With father’s eyes
Upon a prize
He wasn’t going to loose.

When on the route
Before them, grouped,
A band of men tenfold,

Who’d lost their way
The previous day
Whilst seeking their own gold.

And once announced
Began to pounce,
And sack their caravans,

Dispensing swipes
To giant types,
Whilst binding up the man.

And cheering as
They sneered wrath
Spoke of being led astray,

By ventures sworn,
From giant forms,
Of wonderment this way.

Then breathing hard,
The prostrate shard
Of storyteller died,

Before the group
Had time to stoop,
And tend his tortured hide.

Our boy looked beat,
As if defeat
Had struck below the belt,

And sage and scout,
And soldier’s clout,
Meant little where they knelt.

But as they stood,
From out the wood,
An able giant swooped,

And swift as soap
Slipped out a rope,
And snared them in its loop.

And peels of grief,
As in relief,
Shed from his mighty throat,

Until the balm
Of coppice calm
Released its antidote.

“I have thee now,
Oh knavish crowd”
The giant did accent,

“And by debate,
And justice great,
You’ll face your punishment

“For murdering
Of earthen things
Undresses nature most,

And my kindred
Have long altered
Its least desired clothes.”

“But listen here,”
Replied the seer,
“We’re not the guilty ones,

We happened by
Long after crimes
Against your kind were done.

Indeed that girth,
On yonder berth,
Is this poor youngster’s sire,

So stall thy rage
And slip this cage
Your haste has ill attired”.

The giant turned,
Somewhat astern,
Towards the figure draped,

And prodding with
A finger tip
Could not arouse its shape.

“For sooth, it seems,
This adult’s dreams
Are more than day’s relief,

So let thee prove
Thy words unto
My wife and tribal chief.”

F I F E T E E N

Now on the road
From high to low,
From forest deep to glade,

The giant surged
Until a verge
Of low fields flowed their way.

“Lo, heed you men”
He said to them,
“And maiden of the trees,

We’re at the bound
Of open ground,
And it’s affinities.

“Its light is strong,
Its distance long,
Its weather plentiful,

But most of all
Its colours fall
From heaven’s sentinel.

So hide thine eyes
Until they dry,
Or you’ll a fever get,

And we’ve no time
To wipe the lime
Your woodland skin will sweat”

And so they tipped,
By toe and drip,
Out of the forest fence;

A serpent slow
As it could go,
Until het up of sense.

But as their eyes
Accustomised
To exposed land, they saw,

Wild bands of men
Who, unlike them,
Had rushed the woodland door.

Then unannounced
The sullen scout
Collapsed unto her knees,

“Oh poor sots
They’ve gone and got
What once afflicted me”

“Be quelled your dread”
The giant said,
“For if you speak the truth,

Those sickly wrecks
May us, detect,
And part us from our youth”

And so as quiet,
And compliant,
As those in honeycomb,

They held their noise,
And crossed the void,
Before their foes pressed home.

And later on
As sunlight shone
Its last on their first day,

Six new exiles
Were still beguiled
By night and its brocade;

Whilst giant hands
Passed pots and pans,
And filled them with a stew,

Which was swilled down,
‘Til fully drowned,
By a thick and sickly brew.
* * * *
The rolling morn
Saw them adorned
In all its finest froth,

So our young lad
Upraised his dad,
And bathed him in its broth.

And neither sage
Nor scout engaged
In formal morning play,

And soldiers too,
Stuck by its glue,
Could not be turned away.

The giant laughed,
On their behalf,
Then urged them to progress;

He’d still to bear
Them in his care
Towards his giantess.

As well as word
Of humans spurred
To chance their sanity,

Encouraged by
A foreman’s lies
And inhumanity;

For he was sure
That market boor,
Whose letter he conveyed,

Was monkeying
With everything,
And leading all astray.

S I X T E E N

Said merchant sat
That moment at
His private writing stall,

With pen in hand,
And giant plans,
Concluding protocols.

He’d offered them
Their old kingdom,
For them to draw rewards,

But his sickle
Was thicker still,
And meant to reap much more.

And forest kind
Were running blind
From each and every hole,

As tradesmen chased,
And dreamers raced
To save a father’s soul.

Whilst all he had
To do was pad
The walls of one more day,

Awaiting for
His messenger
To speed things on their way.

When giants should
Befall the wood,
And greet men at its brim,

And shatter hard,
And scatter far
And wide upon the wind.

He’d seen the greed
Of those beneath
The branches and the briers,

And listlessness
Of giant chests
Which at his stalls expired.

And realized
That both these sides
Were equally alike,

In searching for
A worthy cause
To satisfy their psyches.

So him being here,
For all these years,
With steady trade to mull,

Decided to
Appoint values
To those invaluable.

And once begun
The faithful sun
Will no more flora kiss,

Because those leaves
Will have no need
Of photosynthesis.

As fallen long
Before the strong,
And timbered for their fuel,

They’ll stoke the fires
Of hate’s desire,
And want’s constant accrual.

And carbonize
For centuries,
Deep rooted in the dirt,

‘Til life’s patrol
Once more extols
The chemically inert.

And scorned by such
Redundant touch,
Old sol will swivel free,

And fast resign
Its spatial sign
To his astrology;

Which shall present
To elements,
Both in and out of seed,

A stable reign
Over such planes
As neither could believe.

And he will lord
As long before
Illumination came,

And quilted groups
And wilted troupes
Will celebrate his name.

And in control
Of molecules,
More heady than most mead,

He’ll furnish them
With burnished gems,
To buy and sell and feed.

And beeswax light,
And anthracite,
Will ward their vanity,

And keep them free
Of colour’s need,
And its insanity.

S E V E N T E E N

Out in the folds
Of endless wold
Our company advanced,

Whilst all around
The business sound
Of nature was financed;

With buzzing things,
Whose beaks and wings,
And claws full of the same,

Performed the rites
Of life’s delights,
Until, they too, were game.

And in the midst
Of this checklist
Our forest folk were cowed,

As such a horde
Had never poured
Out of their woodland clouds.

Or run as fast,
Or hopped aghast,
Or chased a dinner down;

The impact of
This new world was
Beginning to astound.

And our young lad,
With his comrades,
Was soaking up the sun,

Like morning leaves
That had received
Their first communion.

But at a stroke
Enchantment broke,
Beneath the giant’s feet,

And gears were greased
As speed increased
Towards a far retreat.

Where after breath
Had sorely left
The hardiest of lungs,

They entered gates
Swung wide in wait,
As giant voices sung.

And moved to match
The tune dispatched
Their large companion hailed,

The gathering
Of giant lings
That all before them wailed.

Whilst from the swell,
As silence fell,
A regal figure strode,

Anointed with
A lover’s gift,
And ready to bestow.

But sweethearts kept
Themselves in check,
Because of their mandate,

And whispered words
That no one heard,
Though all could estimate.

Then filing through
The avenues
Of reverential bows,

Entered a hall
Were customs stalled
The surging of the crowd.

“Now tell me all”
The chieftain called
To her beloved spouse.

“Of news amassed,
And papers passed,
And strangers in my house”

“It is as told”,
He answered, cold,
“Before I left to hear it,

A motion set
With epithets,
And everything should fear it.

And these six shook
From forest nooks
Have seen it in its nest,

And bravely so,
And blameless blown,
Though charged with their own quest”

“I thought as much”
She said, untouched,
“So caution must prevail,

And any friend
Thee recommend
Will help with its detail.

So call the wise,
And advertise
For any greater still,

For now’s the time
For pantomimes
To lose their wordless chill”.

E I G H T E E N

That very night,
With beacon light
Broadcasting from on high,

The clans were called,
And summoned all,
To meet and mobilize.

And word was sent
To those entrenched
Already in the wood,

To hold their tongues
Whilst out amongst
Its human neighborhoods.

And incidents
With residents
Already hypnotized,

Must be addressed
Without the threat
A giant may imply.

And men who’d fled
Their region’s edge,
With avarice directing,

And found the way
Confused and dazed,
Would have to be protected,

Before their rage
Had disengaged
Completely with their sense,

Infecting those
Inclined to woe,
And willing to dispense.

The signs were met
By alphabets
Known only to sign tenders,

And as the hours
Of darkness flowered
Their messages engendered.

And watching rows
Of giants flow
Towards their walled surround,

Our young man tired
Until required
To sleep upon the ground.

Where verse, as such,
Glowed from the touch
Of sunlight in its glory,

And booming high,
Beyond the sky,
Was apt to tell its story:

“I am your one
And only sun,
And solar is my realm,

Whose rolling planes
And ocean drains
Array my golden helm.

Where bodies large,
And nescient charged,
Migrate across my range,

Completely blessed,
But spiritless,
As grace has been estranged,

Long closeted,
And composite,
Amid the ancient mores,

That first took root,
And then bore fruit,
And grew inside the forest.

“And must remain
Forever same,
Lest heaven is trespassed,

As bodies die,
And spirits fly,
In one great bloody bath.

So hear me boy,
Do not employ,
The purpose of the foreman,

As he is keen
For spine and screen
To extricate their organs,

And harvest youth,
And age’s truth
Beneath his bitter scythe,

And instantly
Fulfill his needs,
By reuniting ties.

And one last word
To be referred
To giants once awake,

Convince their chiefs
That their relief
Will be for you to make.

So know his name,
Where names remain
As tangible as breath,

And call him out
To disavow,
And spurn the sight of Death.”

N I N E T E E N.

“For it’s as bold
As dreams foretold,
That I alone can save us,

As even day
Will loose its way,
If all out war is favoured.

And I’m prepared
To take my share
Of any reprobation,

As coalesced
With life’s process,
I’m everyone’s salvation.”

The giants gasped,
As our lad passed
The last words of his witness,

Until the seer
Sought all to hear,
Whilst rising to address,

“And when you’re asked
Whose name is tasked
With keeping ruin at bay?”

“I’ll say with pride,”
The boy replied,
“My own, disclosed today;

The first zygote
To earn a vote,
And learn its influence,

And realize
That paradise
Is everywhere at once.”

He left it there,
As from her chair,
The Chieftain rose to speak,

With every face
Of either race
Awaiting her critique.

“So Dread’s conspired
With our desires,
And played us all for fools,

And made men flee
Their sanctuary,
And giants seek renewal.

And left you wide,
And clear eyed,
And totally professed,

That on your own
You can atone
For our selfishness.

“Our wise may urge
A different purge,
But they are all forgetting,

That my love, dear,
And your own seer,
Have personally met him.

As I have, too,
And always knew
That something was not right,

So galvanized
With speed’s supplies,
We’ll follow you this night.

And intersect
Where he expects,
But not with stone and staff,

And wait for thee
To intercede
On everyone’s behalf.”

“And I’ll attend
My people’s mend”
The sage said in addition,

“And waste no more
Time on the shores
Of sunlight’s intermission.”

The gathered crowd
As one, aloud,
Agreed this grand design,

And westward swept,
Towards the steppe,
That bound the timber line,

Where morning snapped
Night’s overlap,
With more than usual glee,

And our young boy,
And his envoys,
Were carried carefully.

And on day eight
The earth was late,
In welcoming its light,

As forest trees,
And attendees,
And giants blocked its sight.

And in the wood
Our young lad stood,
Before a tortured scene,

Whose market stalls
And tented walls
Were now the ash of dreams.

T W E N T Y.

He dropped the brand,
That from his hand,
Had set the fire going,

And waited as
Beyond him, passed,
The scent of charcoal glowing.

“What deed is this?”
Behind him hissed
A rasp he recognized,

And turning saw
A shrouded maw
From whence it had chastised.

“What aims consume”
The foreman fumed,
And foamed as his voice broke,

“And illness winds
Out of thy mind,
And settles on my cloak.

Do think thee vast
With ranks amassed,
And tense as catapults,

Or bright enough
To brave a bluff,
And get the right results,

Or hope for signs
That may deny
The fate thy dreams portend,

Or terms to stay
This foretold day’s
Inevitable end.”

“Fair options, sir”
The boy concurred,
“But none of them are mine,

All I require
Is flame’s desire
To show the clandestine.

And scour the land
Of your commands,
And plant them deep today,

And call you hear,
And face your fear,
And frighten it away.”

The foreman raised
His scythe, unfazed,
And made to sweep it down,

But as it peaked
Its edge was streaked
With sunlight’s golden crown.

“This cannot be,
Within the trees.”
He howled a wild recanting,

“The outer world
Cannot unfurl
Inside, without my granting.”

“But look upward”
The boy implored
“The canopy is falling,

As bodies braver
Than the grave
Are spiritually calling.

And will not fight,
But re-unite,
To bare mortality,

And when you foist
No other choice,
Will well contented be.

“As once alive,
Forever wived,
Should soul and spirit live,

And string the bow
Of time’s arrow
‘Til mind and body give.

For I am life,
Whose love is rife
Throughout the world’s expanse,

And you are death,
Whose lonely dress
Is worn for our last dance.

So get thee gone,
Endymion,
For we have been aroused,

And sleep no more
Will for us draw
The shape of our warehouse.”

So Death denied,
And his desires,
Before the fearless left,

And only showed
When his shadow
Had nothing to contest.

And our brave lad,
Whose questing had
At last released us all,

Grew to a man
Out in the land,
Where leaves now chose to fall.


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