:: Article

Gilded Island Grouting & other poems

By GS Smith.

GILDED ISLAND GROUTING

the audience is to the artist as one is to zero
– Glenn Gould

suspended m’dear the limpest grey
this is a lake contained in crust decayed and desolate
a curlicue of trust sub-equatorial deficits sit
puddles need pavements to be beheaded states a total flux
a wretched contact lense a proposition precedes
for a god its denial or good luck

DIALETICS OF SPRING
for Rachel Angus

why don’t you
car share
     and listen
        to the morning
        the manure
    of yr colleagues
nourishes
y
our workplant
for free
radical
wagepollens creepermeate
drawn curtains     to twitch
driving      sneezing self-starters
rubbing      eyes dry in
histamine     superstructures

A DECODED QUINE FOR RHYS TRIMBLE

Phonetic translation from the Welsh of Rhys’ performance of the songs ‘Marwnad Llywelyn ap Gruffudd’ by Gruffudd ab yr Ynad Goch and ‘I wallt Merch’ by Ieuan ap Rhydderch ap Ieuan Llwyd.

Honey wookiee waits on bird near boughs
Honey wookiee in his dairy dug out
Honey wookiee’s woe’s a mirth of tears
Honey wookiee’s weird and gone – très way out.

Doyen’s yellow, wi’ his caraway quine,
do wake the wasp’s nest, dared I.
Dug her rude eye, d’Galway doom,
dig yr ain sin cairn – rare ‘n stewed.

Thereminimal waft dung from the room –
Dieux elfte hid down this bend
Doyen’s hexed, cursed – double kissed-clad
double kissed-clad curse.

THE FADING BALLAD OF #3694-26

If you died in the summer your autopsy report said “sunstroke” and if you died in the winter it said “pneumonia”

– Ted Morgan on Texan prisons in the 1950s

And God saw their works, that they turned from their evil way; and God repented of the evil, that he had said that he would do unto them; and he did it not.

– Jonah 3:10

i.

encode entire personalities
in the sequence
of falling leaves

calligraphy of light (unedited)
sketched in the crest
defining lulls

biological mandated downtime
watch waves usurp
one another

see their works, that they turned their evil way,
relent the planned
disaster. Don’t.

ii.

wri✝e u✝✝er me in
au✝umnn
✝rimmins

a wri✝er uncu✝
sun waves
s✝em cu✝

recover n’ res✝
cer✝ain
✝rus✝ mis✝

i✝ s✝rives – no more sin
✝erse ✝erms
no✝ cross.

ııı.

mıx masses ın
rows as
roses

scrıveners uncensor
sun wave
sever

recover senses
secure
see-saw

come on – no more sın
vıcıous
aım: cease.

c13-11

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GS Smith is a writer and curator from Edinburgh. Since 2012 he has run the CAESURA series of events, exploring experimental writing and sound. Find out more at www.goodnightpress.com

First published in 3:AM Magazine: Sunday, August 23rd, 2015.