Fred Spoliar
the ice crystal now
(february 2018, after CAConrad)
february hail falling
1 glim of ice in my hand
and i’m suddenly a tunnel trained
on the total loss
held in the ice crystal
*
a man stops to beg for change
shows me hands heavy with swelling
asks if i’m ok
his wide hands hold me i’m melting
*
hope does
it does inhere
in the water cycle
as clemency
spring’s variegated leaves
reaching out to glacial distance
the isotherm’s sweet resting breath
‘-but not for us’
the ice wetting my palm
*
kill what feels bigger than you
kill it with your car
get the shears let’s go out
trunkful cellophane tropical fruit
fuck fuck keep stabbing this billboard
*
of the industrial
process
of boiling
and skimming
today’s desires
of which
tomorrow’s
grief is
cheapest
residue
nothing
then gliding
past
a dream in aspic
*
hooking to what’s lost
rewild is a trance word
felt down on the nape
(smell-of-pine-sap dream)
(distant-wolf-howl dream)
(world’s-embrace dream)
when i meet a climate scientist
she says ‘you can’t hate us’
‘we’re such idiots’
‘I love you’ ‘all’
‘this boundless love’
‘but no hope’
Fred Spoliar lives and writes in Norwich. An artist's book with photographer Joseph Glover is available on request from jsphglvr@gmail.com (instagram @josephglover.photo).