Welcome Introduction Contents

GRINDING THE WIND

and after chapel
            where every man bellows Amen with such
force it blows the hair from the temples

               it’s back to the tread-wheel
the great barrel turning, each man in his dumb stall

grasps the hand rail, lifts his feet and lifts

   slow as horses in a ploughed field
but never gaining purchase

and it’s here
              in the silent reek of sweat and dust
I hear a lark empty his heart. I have seen

         men laugh with their feet; rows
of shuffling shoes at some misfortune—

        a turnkey spilling hot coffee
a warden falling asleep in his chair—

but for a moment the tread-wheel spins
the great blades of the fan
                              with purpose

   our industry turns cloud
                              our industry mills the sky