ANDY JACKSON

BORNE AWAY BY DISTANCE

from Frankenstein by Mary Shelley*


cracked

		occupied by

	force



the passage toward

		return



You may give up your purpose but mine is assigned to me

	

I often thought		life

			breathed

composing

		strength

			in being

that burning

		of my own species

	the task of 			my

returning

			fainter

exhausted				

		silence		pressed

	my hand



I		this		wonderful catastrophe



	the remains of		words



gigantic in stature yet uncouth and distorted in proportions



	extended

			the 	approach

toward

		I		

			loathsome yet

this

	pause			turning toward



this tremendous being





	I attempt to speak but the words die away on my lips

	At length I gather resolution



diabolical vengeance to

					dream



groans of

		love and sympathy



accumulated	

			impulse



You throw a torch into a pile of buildings and sit among the ruins



	I hope to meet with

					unfolding



	believe	the 		creature



sublime and transcendent



I am alone



	You hate me but your abhorrence cannot equal



instrument

			the series of my being

	that which must be



ice raft			extremity		ashes 

	

	this frame

				He is dead who called me into being



light feeling and sense		this



world

		the rustling of leaves and the warbling of the birds

torn by

			extinction



But I shall 			feel

		

		the light

					the winds



borne away by	 distance  

 

*(Editor's note: Andy Jackson's poem is an example of an ersure poem. For more on erssure poems see Laurie Clements Lambeth's essay click view)

 

Andy Jackson's collection, Among the Regulars (papertiger media, 2010) was shortlisted for the Kenneth Slessor Prize. His poems "Secessionist" won the 2008 Rosemary dobson Prize. In 2011, he was an Asialink resident at Chennai, India, where he began a series of poems exploring the medical tourism industry. He is currently writing portrait poems of people with Marfan Syndrome. He blogs at amongtheregulars.wordpress.com.