Poems by David Annwn

VERONA NOVENA

The statement flies out of my mouth and someone letters it.
There’s a T shirt here of everything.
This afternoon in the Palace of Reason,
waiting in the vestibule
with the nervousness of
a man waiting in a woman’s dress
shop. I hope you realise
repelling your way of reading
is at least part
of the business I must be about.
I want to make a poem impervious
to sense. Art is eating art is feeding on
art said the poet of landscape with some
concern. Yes, at least since the High
Gothic I thought. Here in the Basilica
of S. Anastasia there are more flying
Dominicans than you’ll ever need.
Some answers have no questions.


CASINO ROYALE

Herb’s catchy brass clamour
caught that 60s starburst
down destiny roads with slinky feline purr,
following Spy versus Spy, Prince
Charles as David Niven: It’s a casino
sin, no sir, between four hundred and five
hundred thousand dollars for the right introductions
and a little adult awry, Primed Ministers
gathered a flushed deck, their heraldry spread
in rearview mirrored Winston to Botchjob
in-firm training disdaining the masses:
Bacharach or Baccarat or Bach
playing Platinum or Plutonium
and the King of Hearts, and Princess of
minefields done in, the cards in your hand
taking flight, the millionaire pimps &
knaves served with serving girls.


CAFE DANTE

Has a glacier striated the basilica’s
interior? Some great force has re-
ceded. There are too many frescoes
and statues and painted faces here
emerging through gesso and plaster,
outnumbering the sight-seers. Who
are the sight-seers and where are we being
herded: on the ninth line leave space:

for graffiti or an ad or a word from our
sponsor, or registration of how far
from sonnets we have strayed
in the crypt of St Zeno where Romeo
and Juliet were married, and someone
else is signing “SILENCIO : devotion
and prayer!” and someone
is explaining ‘Al dente isn’t andante’
and I walk into the cafe and a voice
says ‘This isn’t the cafe’ and I see
it’s far too hot to stay, and discover,
as I’m turning
all my voices frozen in a glacier.