Milk stone

by Pat Lowther

Genres: Poetry

95 pages, Paperback

Published January 1, 1974

Reviews

[mwpm]

Laugh, or spit.
They have postulated microbes
building cities on a muccous membrane
or a great sucking pump
like the animal heart.

I prefer laughter
visible
as in absolute cold,
or a boy working up his juices
for the ultimate
all-time champion
distance spit.

- The Origin of the Universe, pg. 29

* * *

Imagine it –
tympanum, cochlea,
cunning little frogs-legs ossicles,
all that delicate absurd machinery
petrified, rattling stonily
in the skull’s cavity
like garnets in a hollow rock.

Or like a whale’s eardrum
I saw once preserved,
blank as a great flint chip
and lonely as one cymbal.

And the blood’s surf beating
then always like the sea
unheard on solitary stone.

- Stone Deaf, pg. 36

* * *

I am waiting for you
in the lowest room beneath the building

I am smooth as a gourd
without resistance
my shape spreads
downward
seeking the lowest
centre of gravity

I spend hours memorizing
the labyrinth
beneath our skins
by which I came

waiting for your long shadow
in the passage

I am green as a gourd
but inside I am red

All through the folded hours
I am burning
quietly

I am becoming a red hollow
skin
a gourd for drinking

Only now do I recognize
shards patterning the dust
between my legs

they are my former skins

How many times
have I come here

How long have I been waiting

- The Last Room, pg. 44-45

* * *

Work one face of a stone
only
so I can always have you:
at times I am one-dimensional.
Love on paper.

It’s easier to photograph you
with my mind
arresting you at mid-point
in some brilliant exposition
before discovery moves you
off the surface.

Although I know you’re
a cave splendid with crystals
and white bats,
sometimes I am
afraid to go there.

- For Selected Friends, pg. 58