from Sonnets for Billy Barrix


Billy Barrix strides into the baking
south on Wednesday to find Gandhi inside
an ATM machine & a headache
which feels like hibiscus or fresh cut fruit
  It is going like a cloud of creamer
  black coffee on the rooftop beach terrace
All your choice wish Barrix  your name engraved
on grain of rice  cocktails after curfew

  or  for example  a hundred year-old
  turtle explodes against the sea defence
   a ring of kids around his bloody face
    suddenly circles seem significant

    It’s hard to make the sea mean anything
    so after two nights I always skip towns




the gleaming roadside shrines the gentle lake
in this light like solid gold   and elsewhere
I am here   I watch the ferryboat bob
like a ribcage rising softly falling

  Mama  it is going like sandalwood
  aerosols like cakes of rose toilet soap
  and the sun sets every single day
Sir what you look I have seen you before

trying to make a mistake on the beach
 Billy Barrix wonders what his feeling
  the beach is a Beach is a masala
omelette with a view  looking is for free

    crows fuss around the air like black plastic
    sacks in a gale    the sea hushes itself




slept in luggage rack on the sleepy train
morning develops  Put a ten in place
of five  mutate and burst through yesterday's
yellow curtain at the Ashby Hotel

  all day the hallway men shout in slapstick
 dial #9 for salt-lime soda scotch in wax-
 paper cups   lunch is simple as hushed brown
potatoes or Handicapped Credit Card

Reservations  I’ll be by the bar snacks
eavesdropping in English  in the silence
of middle-aged couples stare at Barrix
   so here’s hoping here as in place will fold

    as imperceptibly into a now
    as in purpose as in cocktail napkins




beginning again the classic tracking-
shot  qualities of dusk &c.
wheat-field workers watch the sleeper roll through
has entered and left Barrix in silence

  It is going like lotus flower cups
  of country liquor  they take like lyrics
   paani bottle bonfire block-print bazaar
   a field full of hard work is beautiful

Knowledge Updation is Power of Strength
because actually I am taking
collectables & gods and your good name
  if it looks abandoned then probably

    it isn’t   no photographs of sunsets
    no flashes inside the inner sanctum




water wets Barrix & the Honeybee
softens the heart a little scavenger
hunt redrafting his accumulations
  Mama it is going it is going

  not-towards  the sun I find is ringing
  like a bell is a little yellow tear
 on a gin-blue river but not at all
yogic  Steps especially which include

breath control help  I find I am a trace
of myself like a word like a silver-
plastic elephant for good beginnings
  and still Barrix wonders what his feeling

    separate from his voice  the sound that drowns
    all choices is the noise of the market







[Angus Sinclair's poetry has recently appeared in Ambit, clinic online, and the anthology Dear World and Everyone in it: New Poetry in the UK]

Copyright © 2014 by Angus Sinclair, 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.