Name: The Games
Author: Harry Josephine Giles

About This Book

The Games is a book of play with language. In Scots and English, it mucks about with sound poetry, found poetry, computer-generated poetry, dirty poetry and others ways to blur and bust the borders of genre. Its themes are ecology, power and sex: how can you have fun in a system that's trying to take power away from you? The Games makes and breaks rules in an effort to live a full life in a full world.

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Yes, you can access The Games by Harry Josephine Giles in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & Poetry. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.

Information

Publisher

Out Spoken Press

Year

2018

ISBN

9781916046825

Topic

Literature

Subtopic

Poetry

Index

Literature

* * *

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* * *

Abolish the Police

The poem is only an appeal:

why don’t we abolish

the police, let’s abolish

the police, the police, please,

won’t you please abolish the police?

The poem is only a world:

here it is, I only pass you the world

without police: see the thief given

what she only needs, the murderer

only held with only hands.

The poem is only an inspiration,

only a cindered liver, its untrue rising

intonation only a mechanism of desire, a carrying

to where you gather, ticked in tone, with only

fellow poem-hearers to abolish the police.

The poem is a only witch’s work, under

only the best round moon, only the deep

ordering of its words enough to banish

police from this plane. Only cast it with me,

abolish, cast your circle, abolish,

breathe in, abolish, breathe

out, abolish, acknowledge the five directions,

abolish, abolish, abolish, abolish, abolish,

and spell: we abolish the police, abolish the police, abolish the police, abolish

the police, abolish the police, abolish the police, abolish the police, abolish

Sabbath

Who walks in rain beneath the four great houses?

—CROW—PIGEON—GULL—STARLING—

Who walks at this time in the rain beneath the three towers?

—RUBY—EMERALD—SAPPHIRE—

Who walks at this early hour on this sabbath morning under the sign of rain below the four monuments to living?

—HIRISE—LORISE—SEMI—DETACHED —

Who walks the five ways?

—STREET—PATH—RIVER—RAILTRACK—ROAD —

Whose movements carve a seal in the rain beneath the five pillars?

—STREETLIGHT—TRAFFICLIGHT—TREE—AERIAL—SPIRE —

Whose movements are a prayer this morning through these offerings to the ground?

—TROLLEY—BOTTLE—PACKET—LEAF—BUTT—CAN—

Who moves here now?

Thing-Prayer

We acknowledge the baffling circulation of things:

things carrying guilt like a dead bird, things cloaked in bin liners

so they might not be seen, things unrotting in whorls in new islands,

things sheltered by sofas, things sick with dust in the dark of the shelf,

precious things beaten into roofs, hated things beaten into walls,

things blasted through bushes, things so terrible with memory

they cannot be given and cannot be kept, things left, things passed,

things past, things never, things regretted, things missed, things lost, things

held in the valves for a decade then spelled away as though they ...