This week our Friday Poem is Nerys Williams’ ‘Kinetic Melodies’, from her award-winning debut collection, Sound Archive.
Winner of the DLR Strong Award and shortlisted for both the Forward Prize and the Michael Murphey Prize, Nerys Williams’ Sound Archive is a strikingly original and critically acclaimed first collection of poems. Using formal strategies similar to modernist painting: abstraction, dislocation, surrealist juxtaposition, Williams conjures a complex music, intriguing narratives, and poems full of atmosphere that query identity, gender, and the dream of art as a vehicle for emotion and meaning.
Look out for Nerys Williams’ new collection, Cabaret, out soon from New Dublin Press.
It is easy to speak of language as ownership,
your purring phonemes are not my right
nor any dialogic imagination.
It is like the time I mixed metaphors
and found myself nude, addressing a crowd
with no immediate
parallel or paradox to flail at.
An empty lectern, a thousand eyes.
Small inconsistencies alert us:
a time to find a colour of saying,
how dialect forms the melody of tall tales.
After storm fields have disappeared
sulphur fills the air where the tree stands.
Here it says I am branch
root and hollow, rub my charcal into clean hands,
serenade me with your speech,
curse the carrion crow below.
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