Peter Finch, Three Poems

Peter Finch, image by John Briggs 

John Ashbery Visits Lidl 

Everyone loved what they saw.

The rough displays, the mitre makers

The marigolds and the clothes

The persimmon velvet curtains

The garlic tea cloths

The passionate biscuits

The Slavonic chocolate

The wines from Cricklewood and Westphalia

The whole family are keenly interested

They arrive in droves.

The first year was like icing

The man with the red hat
The girls protected by gold wire

The music that never ceased.

Now they swear by tennis balls

the unknowable crispbreads, the meats in vacuum packs.

Sometimes they come because their cars do

Sometimes they are profligate

Sometimes they are radiant

Sometimes they shop because there is little else to do

Mostly though it’s pedantic Cindy without brio or élan.

The family they just want to save money

They always do

They have this furious passion.

They buy onions

They buy the weirdly branded tins,

the fold-up beds, the spread-on chocolate,

the spanners.

Clearly the song will have to wait

amongst all this great saving
How brave they are

buying marigolds when they don’t need to.

In the queue there he is but no one recognises him

why would they, the joker,

self-portrait in his trolley,

his New York face peering out of that so realistic convex mirror.

Stein

3 Feb, 1874 – 27 July, 1946

You are down here in the ground of

Pere Lachaise beneath a stone

big enough to hold you down.  The space

around you is full, names you’d know,
Max Ernst, Paul Eluard, Modigliani, de Nerval,

Perec, Proust, Pissarro, Wilde, Alice B, Appolinaire.

This is no humble place, it’s a city.

To get around you need a map

Given what you did I expected uproar like Morrison gets.

Excited girls with tattoos, young men with that

look of beat nonchalance that belies the roaring

they have inside their heads.   But there’s nothing.

It’s as if you’d not changed the twentieth

challenged its serial monogamy made it

ripple with how the brain turns.  There’s no bramble

nor trees near you.   No ivy growing across

your name.  Just a rose someone has left,

shrivelled  now,  and a stone in the

shape of a heart dropped  above

where yours might be.  You had one once.

July  the twenty-seventh is simply not prepared for.

Try to be try to be try to be try to be try to be try to be

be to try try it go on try just try to be try to be

it’s not really hard at really not not at all

Some Blats

v2016

for Ifor Davies

is England Green

is Wales Welsh

is Tzara a dadist

is money yellow

is love an illusion

is stillness silence

is time t9ight

is America there

is Barry really an island

is war needed

is money a failure

is black a colour

is the easywayout easy easy

is man an animal

is the poem finished

is yellow yellow yellow

is eternity locked up

is rock and roll here to stay

is the sun an orange

is the moon soon

is grass suitable

is moss small hair

is the language strong enough to carry a revolution

is the muse worthwhile

is the doctor really learned

is the Big Bopper on the right track

is laughter music

is sex an excuse

is sound holy

is death a disease

is rain too much

is a cold a prison

is Agamemnon a person

is red out of date

is smoke silent

is the stream sorry

is the sky strong

is the blutone drunk

is the moon somewhere beyond America

is a tree a large flower

is petrol a sin in the sun

is carbon paper

is the sound of one hand clapping no more than silence

is venus false

is the moon a martyr

is a monk brown throughout the year

is this time going to be the last time

is this side the other side

is hope worth bothering about

is the answer to it all in a bottle

is tomorrow when

is a wail free

is wine loud

is a vegeatable sane

is paper thinkable

is a tank a table

is a running man a risk

is thunder the sound of clouds bumping together

is fast and bulbous

is come on come on ready 4 the crush

is a lawnmower an object of beauty

is fire capable of creation

is destruction retaliation

is a roll a weak rock

is a guitar an instrument of depth

is ink the only obliterator

is black cloud a toner fog

is death the easyway out

is a gaz a stove

is metal heavy

is plastic alive

is blood forgotten

is air emulsified

is an ant a giant to a microbe

is an atom a star

is chess the product of bicycles

is seawater evil

is rubber hollow

is stereo vision three deamon

is fishfood malutricious

is the jaw no more than a door

is the head a hat

is music the lack of silence silencio

is smoke filled full of dreams

is distribution valid as an art

is fantasy votable

is voltage a distant relation to the sky

is impact possible

is the hand a mountain

is Ifor ivor

ifor ivor ivor ifor ifor ifor ifor ivor ivor ivor

ifor ivor ivor ifor ivor ivor ivor ifor

is ifor ivorivor ivor rrrrrrrrrrrrrr

is ifor rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ssvip

is really chuzz chuzz

is lipwork possage

id worthman plinleered

it is youngleigh light wooshezesez

id jomp a lerrkmmmmp

is a distraktengivor a bengingpop

is a toomwow a yearing vor tort

is a menmann gardes lompes gloo[p

is creakslis fanapzwash

is a salerang unda beatlum greal growl wow

is heartbustingflip le boutisgarg loopalaiy foor mee

is nonstap ifor ivor finnslerg god

is fishfled flags

is wishta ta

is goerdistfl longgonongham

is glad flijouy

is flomgsd flaggs

is fat loompnoph gius fat

is ghaj fgads westfring for

is hsfdomdom sloss tross ss

is flopssuu ususus s

is gadsas s

is flodsd ss ssgss hsf vr

is testraljss tsssghdes ss desssss ssssssjs sss

is sflossfgssssjss sssss ssss sshgs

is ssssjs sss sssskss ssssksss

is sssss sssss ssssslss sss ss

is sss sssss ssssss sss sssss s ss sssk

is ssss ssssss sss ss sssss sss ss s

is s ssss sssssks ssss sssssss s ssssss

is s ssssssssss sssssssssss ssss ssss

is s ssss sssss sssss s ss ssssks sssss

is ss sssss ss sssssssssssss ssssssss s sssss

is sss sssssss sss ssss

is sssssssssssss ssssssss sssss sssssssss

is sss sssssssss sss ssss

is ssssssssss sssssssss ssss sssssssssss

is ssssssssssss ss sss sssssssssssssssssssssk

is sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ssssssss

is sss ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ssss

is ss ssssssssssssssssssssssss sssssssssssss ss

is sssssssssssssssssss sssssssssssssss

is ss ssss ssss

is sssssssssssssssss ssssssssss

is s sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

is ss ssssssssssssssssssksssssssssssssssssss s

is sssssssssssssssssssssss ssssssssssss

is ss sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

is ss sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

is s ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

is s sssssssssssssssssss

is ssssssssssssss

is sssssssssssssssssssssksssss

is  ssssssssssssssssssss sssssssssssssss

is sssssssssssssssksssssssssssssss

is ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

is sssssssssssssssssssss

is sssssssssssss

is ssssssssssssssssss ssssss

is ss ssssssssssss sssssssssssssks

is ssssssssssssssssssssssss

is sssssssssssss

is sssss

is ssssss

is ssssss

is ssssssssssssssss

is sssssssssssssssssssss

is ssssssssssss

is sssssssssssssssssss

issssssssssssss

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

ssssssssssssssss

sssssssssss

ssssssssssss

sssssssssssss

ss

s

s

s

Peter Fin sh sssssss