From Adam Wyeth’s forthcoming poetry collection, Silent Music.
*(to be read from the bottom-up)
DOWN
SLOW
a warning to
on the tip of its black tongue
SLIPPERY WHEN WET
every notice revealing a lyric:
to the highway of the stars;
lighting up the banks like a runway
of whitethorn and gorse
lead back in time to a hedgerow
signposts pointing the wrong way
in the middle of nowhere
scuttling off to die
like a wounded animal
then coming to an end
a fairy ring road
or branching off
over a new leaf
each bend turning
like Celtic knots
going round in circles
through ancient riddles of hills
twist and snail
their blarney boreens
Irish roads
tell a different tale
and their high-speed highways.
emblematic of America
he scribbled On The Road
of tracing paper
one hundred and twenty-foot scroll
like Jack Kerouac’s
in my rear view mirror,
in an endless scrawl
and fall beneath -
would rise to meet me
I’d make it so each line
If I was to write a poem on the road
*May The Road Rise
Adam Wyeth will be launching his book with a wine reception on Saturday 19th February at 2pm FREE event, all welcome.
