Treatise Poems Christopher Sanderson

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about the author and the writing of Treatise Poems

Three and a half years ago these words were found wandering, as the poet himself wandered.

A few days, edging towards a month, a month that was the beginning of, is the beginning of our English summer.

The present sense is of a distant intensity; the thankfulness though, that is no less immense.

Christopher SandersonDecember 2012

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Contents

Articled Clerk ............................................................................... 5

Critical Mass ................................................................................. 9

Cobblestones ............................................................................... 16

Purchase ....................................................................................... 17

Réponse à Vous.......................................................................... 19

A short treatise on how we meet........................................... 20

A novella of a dream................................................................ 22

© Christopher Sanderson - December 2012

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Articled Clerk

Love left, in the halls of oak and mirrorsShe took my desert viewStood face onInto the winds of hollow freemasons

We smokedBy framed and frameless picturesShe took my smileStood leaning in her cowboy boots

All the talk, of poets & musician’s timingShe took the rhythmStood seemingly still, but beating

Into the songs of yesterday’s names

We jokedBy tame and untamed tigersShe took my leaveStood in the lace of early Jacobean

Love swept in passages and doorways5

She took my take on rainStood nakedInto the dare, long past desperation

We hoped

By lame and blameless tormentsShe took the apronStood by the paste & paint

All the folk, in premature arrangementsShe took my stingStood meaningful but fleetingInto the pages of cold cornfield papyrus

We slopedOur margins with curved lettersShe took my penTurned towards the easel

Love, deft under lightened shadowsShe took the drumStood firm, erect and pointed

Into the choice of while we while-away

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We walkedBy wet grass into the dry landsShe took my dunesStood in barefoot slipper sandals

All the coke, in grates of smokeless firesShe took the flameStood dreamlike unceasingInto the scars of overnights demeanour

We chokedOur amorous adventuresShe took my libido

Into the soak of soaked up soak-away

Love bereft, in still & silent statureShe took my arid outlookStood face onInto the winds, wild of swallowed legions

We elopedWith good & bad, and bad & good hubris

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She took the turn of pageInto the dark of night less sight

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Critical Mass

Without an imageThere can be no heartbeatWithout an essenceThe juices no longer flow

Along the drugged up veins of love

Your faceHidden in the treeYour face Lessened in the landscapeYour face Plied on the pent up stretched out canvas

Your face Looks back from the late night underground

Without the props that I need to be obsessiveI feel no more to fear the need of obsessionWithout the fallInto the loose and past possessiveLife suggests

There is no need of suggestion or possession9

Your lips Poured out of corn flake packetsYour lipsSlipped on the frozen tubes of ice

Your lips Movements in sweet & soulful slow motionYour lips Imaginary kissed on the late night omnibus

>>>

I would have to give up everythingI know it doesn’t sound too muchNow that I have said it

Seven words that’s the all & the length of it:

I would…Have to…Give up…Everything

Everything

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Almost glorious in its measure

Every thingEverything

Every thing

Everything

Vainglorious within its treasure

I soon retreatFar too soon I retreatPast the silhouetteAt the ticketed transit stop

I am reminded

Of your curved and fallen shouldersA victim of my oppressive natureHow do IHow do I give up on oppression

Your breathThrough the tides that ebb and flowYour breath

Through the fields that grow and grow

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Your breathThrough the wards of life’s support go slowYour breathThrough the withdrawn path to death and way below

>>>

Easy to saySay I gave it all awayAll that made me thusAll the life we have seen All duty, even our being mean

Think of it for the momentWhat you could

Could notLive without

Her face Her lips Her breathHer time bereft

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The morning ablutionsAfter a night of sleep and dreamsThe tablets and solutionsBefore a day of servitude and schemes

The hi-fiThe motor carThe wi-fiThe road less travelled too far

>>>

Not so easy to say, orWork outHow to begin again

What form of establishmentWhat rules of engagement

How to seek out the silenceHow to settle into calmHow to feel such passionsThat fuels the reborn purpose

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This is not of grasslands and meadowsNeither dunes beside the seaNot of morning meditationsNor cups of lapsang souchong tea

>>>

So to be aloneTake those cruel steps to leave behindFriends, families, lovers and acquaintancesWith or without your fanciful farewell letter

Walk, voiceless on pavementsAbsent of hatred conversationTread weary, but hopeful, towards your

Nonexistent extinct silent order

A journey with all of abstinenceFor directions; a pathwayWith a finite & distinct lackOf chequered flags & winning posts

Your eyes

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That lost the joy of presenceYour eyesThat fell on cardboard covered sleepersYour eyes

That sprinkled on the magic dustYour eyesThat rekindled sunken cares

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Cobblestones

You kicked my ball down the hillYou hadn’t ever kicked my ball beforeIs this what it’s like, to fall in love again

The ball rolled under the cake cart wheels

Zigzagged from pavement to pavementOnce or twice we almost caught up

It was at the bottom of the hillAt the junction with the main roadWhere the ball finally came to rest

Two mid-twenties girls walked byThey smiled with the joy of laughter

At our newly joined-up predicament

Is this what it’s like to fall in love againInvigorated, I strode into the washroomRinsed my face, in the ice cold water

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Purchase

I wanderedAround the stalls & tentsAt the outdoor music festival

Perhaps to buyA karma bell, or a pairOf lime green silk pantaloons

Is thisWhat it is like to be gentle

I reach out for your handTo offer

Some sort of reassurance

Downstairs the toastIs ever so slightly burntAll downTo a lack of concentration

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Is thisWhat it is like to be gentle

What betterThan a cup of tea

The taste of jam, with Philadelphia

The chimes sway On the blossom treeBy the archway

Where I plantedRemember I planted the wisteria

Is this

What it is like to be gentle

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Réponse à Vous

This is your timeYour 4:30 AM dawn chorusTime to drive along the empty roadsAmong the corn & rapeseed landscapes

Time to see the wind As it waves through the beech and sycamore

This was your timeTo stride outWith vibrant youthful purposeInto the blustery early day headwindThat pressed your bright white cotton shirt

Against your sparrow chest

This is, this wasYour time, our timeTimes of innocent, and not so innocent questions

Time when, time wasTimes then, and all aroundAlways someone, with an obsession to answer

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A short treatise (on how we meet)

What is this thing called loveWhere does its time sit& why the ways we chooseAmid our instinct for survival

As though to raise the stakesOf lost loves returned arrival

It is an irrefutable factWe first met in that one instantMemory says you turned aroundSmiled to ask “may we join you”

As though to raise the stakes

Of lost loves returned arrival

It was a junior school classroomBefore our degrees in psychologyI was by a boy from next door, hisFather worked for the Water board

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As though to raise the stakesOf lost loves returned arrival

Where then does that moment sitAmong the trillion million others

What is this thing called loveBesides an instinct for survival

As though to raise the stakesOf lost loves returned arrival

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A novella of a dream

I sit on the wooden stepsThat lead to the sun blessed sandsMy head rests, cuppedIn your smooth & tanned bare breasts

My fingers play, gentlyAcross your delicate lace and cotton pantiesFoolishly, I sayShall we go somewhere special, tomorrow

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