Issue 17: Adam Flint

Lant Skips

Unfinished ongoing no other account • Oh for days • Oh for days • the wolfwastes • fallen all joy • Hands rimmed with beetle and delight in the lilac lost • Only light the worms seep soft • little bits of body-lit mulberry blood • turning sericeous • cages against rime • tricking contours to glint just • I have found my level and my level is loved • snug in the black crescent of culvert • dirt is fine • pulverised • affection to touch • The childhood was • waiting to grow into • a lant-skip • pilling-textured • test card-hued • persisting with an awkward posture • lest an imagined watcher judge • more graceless a switch of limbs • Bruised calves plagued by playground grit whipped up by mobs of air • Cold • Cold the first fading presences • Overcoated grown-up backs going into the mist • The tunnel of frost-sleeved arches • intricate brilliance of twig and limb • I let them go through them anew • a new silence • cloven in the grown space • a lant-skip • a remnant • knowing going comes • Same as in the late august gardens • crouched where the watering can spout rusts • Into the damaged aperture • Ferric webs and brackish • Lant-skip stilled face deep as querent • tranquil on encountered water • floats conflated in and outer • lant-skips • Oh for days • Things less municipal • The wastes wider trash less human more leaf • runny in early morning cold • mouldered sludge from flakes • once touched sews blains into the dermis • pieces time • Oh for days • I have not wondered enough • at the need infinite givens have to be defined • Ringed on scrub by oxen-brindle fading with the light • Boxes of tongue-slicked nostrils snorting hot ruminant breath • the jostle of the closing circle • the revenant detail • before this gammy transit • lame-sided • endwise-viewed • continues oh for days • Oh for days the evening drove the darkening greens to host • drove the darkening greens to host degrees of blue follow • their journey through the wincing air • notes slight press upon the tenderest receptor • Sorrow a pressure to rest on • the solace of loam • deep-odoured moist of must of cruxes • and lazarus forests • The foldgarth in the hollow • watched unseen where stiffened starlight peppered the hazel-bush • the camouflaged imagines • to carve cold edges of space • as saturn's shepherding moons • cripple the craved-for hiddenness of things • Ambiguous details mass • intensify and whiten • veer towards a soiled yellow at their palest point • seethe and crust erupt and flake • assassin-soft maelstroms wolfen-grey • Monstrous the dawn • Waking where shiverful leaf-blades pucker • the rotund dead block form growth from flower • necks specked with spit and the lips chipped away • several-faced • in broken pieces of glass • oh for days  • Oh for days the further fields • roughened light green by one pearled ray • eyes that crave an ocean to look over well • do not spill • teeter at ciliate rims • to pile a saline glaze • touching not to long in one place • lest it glisten • the gaze • and liquefy the world the same • as the hemispheres suffer


As a reflection of scale

hidden in one of the herd and further

stowed away in the eagle's plumes

to birdthrone

                            whites pinken

irises gloam dimmen sheen

in the meant to be limner of things

a hymn

               for favour

aloof before noon

denial imbibes in settling light

wine half-hidden under heaven's even regard

                                                                                             and drifts

in distances a split cognition frees

lurid bliss and falser peace balance none mine

nor after tense surrender apt & quiet

                                                                            open daylight

ally of a goodly garden

configured by virtue of solitude alone

can I erect my arena

and dissipate at its porous limits

to close the door on my double

                                         my double now


completing worlds away

beneath the desperate brilliance of the heavens' jeer and vanish

                                                                                          where are my hands

                                                                                          where my feet

but under cuffs of cloud and hem

of hedgerow am I silent ranter

holding the whole burned through together

the hole burned through the tongue that wrote the light and dark of god

one of the multiple lives unhad

believed to bide unfigured in the finite as

something faintly caudal at

the canthus

                          an attendant

I am my own inmost shadow

constance and horizoned existence

render all but invisible only

                                                       met alone

in a strange and private smile

the ticking early to loosen widens

sanglant instants             self-vulned

                                    the september sun

knowing when it's beaten leaves

soothed by the season's hour of fire

I can finally look at you divested of flames

your naked radius midpoint to red giant

how loss gains

                               only when regulus

                               only as wren

                               hidden in the eagle's wings

                                                do I transcend


cudbear deepspersed duskmist door

frames low mammalian

odour since lax and blunt

branches inside rosehood fount

pinks heavenswell


Head-high rye-grass

               Infant-cling to the lilt and burr


float over broken pollen

A small force enters    parts

stalks in the child’s field


a gap that won’t close

                 Thumbs to forefinger

         tips    run

soft-rush stem-lengths

scalping them of flower

The sky remains

an eternal

adjournment on lifted bouquets



brimmed with patience

fed tented wings at rest

on flowerheads


spoke to and swayed

            Because there was no voice in the wine

            And none took place where cold dusk-parlours

dense glass jars ranked witness

            to a later

            silent vintner


said wine          dark and hard-bled

from the sedentary feminine turned


                                 with black wine

cold as the black greens                 The stars


plink in the runnels



           in ink-



upward glancings mirror


                 eye of corby

rimless fixity high over dark

salt-marsh guess and marram

dry snow     white choke     tearquint essence

coursing sulcate heavens

         the many subtle bearings and tendence

clarified blankness of both


         Cloud space

pulsing through dentate

parted leaves

shocks the cognate


to gnit

a root out of the human


The weak

unto a vanishing point

drink strong

drink on the stones

The hard burn     the ebb

and flow takes the edge off

takes the edge off



A gaunt face leaves

make in shadows moves under wind

                                         the wind that was one

                                         by one through the alders

hidden ahead of it

outhouse thresholds

shut doorway shadows broke

gnawed by famished light


          The Vagabond

dwells in the welt

the edge

joining sole to upper

each step

along the root

of earth and word



meted between

dwells in the welt

tissue-ridge raised

on skin

raw from thorncrib




and walking away

injects a thin shade

deep across flowering clover

the eve’s bleached wilt


                   Tears    readied

                   years ago

                   on a dusty pace-scuffed path

                   hot and coastal

                   one summer





green/grey leaves

light on the fissured herring-bone bark


                   this last

                   low sun

Adam Flint lives in Berlin. Previous poetry has been published by Critical Documents, Stand, and Shearsman, among others.

Copyright © 2016 by Adam Flint, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.