WHITE NOISE A quartet for boots

WHITE NOISE

A quartet for boots & anorak - by Anarchic Goat

I
THE JAZZMAN OF STONEHENGE

The Jazzman of Stonehenge;
kneeling
taps his tiny toffee hammer
on the tarmac path.
Shakes his matchbox at
passing feet.

From his coat pocket takes
a small dull blade
to make quiet scraping noises,
like a field mouse
eats corn.

Suddenly!
smiles,
rocks back & forth,
hums a musical note.
e-flat.

He stops.
Slaps his leg.
Ha Ha.
No applause.
And beyond the ropes
the Stones have heard it
all before.
_____________________

II
THE SPACEMEN OF STONEHENGE

Here they Come!
The Spacemen of Stonehenge.
The Vanguard
Already through the gate.
Radio wands,
pressed to tiny holes.
Alien tapes
in fish-like heads.

Here they Come!
The Spacemen of Stonehenge.
Running
through the time tunnel;
emerging into light.
Like an army
deployed.

Here they Are!
The Spacemen of Stonehenge.
Struggling with straps;
lens covers;
the click of shutters;
the whirr of motorwinds;
telescopics;
all senses protected.

And now some Wealthy Spacemen
have hired a helicopter.
See! Here it comes.
The blades drown
the wands.

The copter comes in low,
value for money.
A deafening noise.
The Grounded Spacemen
look aghast.
A Spaceman's mother is nearly
blown over.

The Airborne Spacemen
are in heaven
above Stonehenge
circling.
Pressed eyes to camcorders;
pressed camcorders to window;
Pressed.

The Spacemen of Stonehenge
are in the bus
going home
happy.
They have lots of film
to show
their relations.
_____________________

III
DIVINE RITES

The old man looked up from his sandwich.
'By God' I heard him exclaim;
as with twitching & stare,
long grey flowing hair,
& forked twig before her,
she came.

She seemed to be coming straight at him.
though her gaze was fixed on afar.
Should he stick it & stay,
or get out of the way,
or shout 'Lady! D'you know
where you are.'

The decision was soon taken from him;
as with one great almighty lunge,
the twig pulled her south,
& with wide open mouth,
into a ditch
she did plunge.

And that's how it is with divining.
Be it water, or ley lines or lead.
if you haven't the art,
then don't even start.
You're better off staying
in bed.
_____________________

IV
THE POET OF STONEHENGE

The Poet of Stonehenge
is in his room, reading;
of spotted dolerite,
inner bluestone,
& sarsen circle.

Tired,
he puts the book down.
Lights out.

And in cold winter skies
stars shine
over Salisbury Plain.
_____________________

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This page was last updated 4/17/2005