This poem is taken from Stand 220, 16(4) November - December 2018.

Ken Smith Four Poems
Ken Smith 1982

Ken Smith, 1982. Reproduced with permission of Neil Astley, Bloodaxe.

Being the third song of Urias

Lives ago, years past generations
perhaps nowhere I dreamed it:
the foggy ploughland of wind
and hoofprints, my father
off in the mist topping beats.

Where I was eight, I knew nothing,
the world a cold winter light
on half a dozen fields, then
all the winking blether of stars.

Before like a fool I began
explaining the key in its lost locked box
adding words to the words to the sum
that never works out.
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