Mixed Borders

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Church Interior A lost language: transept, aumbry. Echoless sounds: crypt, ambulatory. Crucifix – clerestory, feretory, triforium – stripped of its God. Clear bell of meaning tolled in a bell jar. Word- nave. Soulless sanctuary. Aslan’s long, Pentecost without its tongue. Bereft husks: rood, chevet, withdrawing roar. vestment. Meaning unmoored. Misericord’s still-clinging scent, drifts towards vault dust. Stone wafers, wirethin slices of language, waiting to be cast out, lined up against the churchyard wall: a faith’s headstone. 22
The Acer and the Agapanthus The Acer can be underlit. Acer leaves, shaken, frilled by the wind, sing dancing movements, lightly tossing delicate leaf-hands, turning and overturning, this way and that, this way and that, showing different hues, green, maroon, amber, lime, the crimson and gold of medieval beechwoods. Ever at play. At the touch of the sun’s rays, there’s a theatre of colour, a tossed head of colour, a thrown head-dress of colour. Come and play! they cry to the Agapanthus. But the Agapanthus hunkers, clenches bent leaves close to its centre. Waxy and crouched, it holds its leaves’ dull gleam at spider-leg angles. Its green absorbs the sun. It can’t be seenthrough. It does not, will not, play with the wind. It sends forth just one strong stem which soars out, a swan-neck and head, a green head-veil, a gauze film wrapped tight round its jaw as if it has toothache. Its neck is so slender, its oval cheek so smooth, like a horse’s cheek, curved and full. It holds its head high but it is exposed to the space around it, to the air and light and people and noise, at the mercy of these currents. It could be cut with a swipe, one swipe, beheaded, dead-headed. Now, just before it bursts into flower, you could laugh and say, it has a sock-puppet head, a muppet head, that Agapanthus. But you would be wrong, for it persists. There is nothing so stubborn to be born. 23
Page 1 and 2: 1
Page 3 and 4: Mixed Borders Poems from the London
Page 5 and 6: ? Introduction - 7 Ann Perrin - 11
Page 7 and 8: ! HOW DID OUR GARDEN GROW? You plan
Page 9 and 10: 9
Page 11 and 12: Ann Perrin Garden: Postman’s Park
Page 13 and 14: The handkerchief tree I sit under t
Page 15 and 16: Some read their poems there and the
Page 17 and 18: Pop-up garden in Canning Town For L
Page 19 and 20: Clarissa Aykroyd Garden: Red Cross
Page 21: Ellen Cranitch Garden: Christchurch
Page 25 and 26: Hilaire Garden: Morden Hall Park My
Page 27 and 28: Garden Swap Shop Who’ll swap comm
Page 29 and 30: Ian McEwen Garden: Arlington Square
Page 31 and 32: The Symmetry Breakfast Song Bilater
Page 33 and 34: John Grant Garden: Osterley House G
Page 35 and 36: Garden Poems A garden enclosed is m
Page 37 and 38: Julia Bird Garden: Nomura Internati
Page 39 and 40: A GUIDE TO THE ELEMENTS 1. Water Th
Page 41 and 42: on the wharves across the river, th
Page 43 and 44: three: the birds of prey in charge
Page 45 and 46: Mary Dickins Garden: St Mary’s Se
Page 47 and 48: What it takes? It took struggle and
Page 49 and 50: Chilli Pepper Rap We’re red hot c
Page 51 and 52: life” (Corinthians 3:6). In one w
Page 53 and 54: Natalie Shaw Garden: Fenton House G
Page 55 and 56: Penny Hope Garden: Red House Garden
Page 57 and 58: Trellis Honeysuckle weaves itself i
Page 59 and 60: The neighbour's cat, nameless intru
Page 61 and 62: Roomates (at Bunhill Fields) Sure,
Page 63 and 64: Sara Benaim Garden: The Olden Commu
Page 65 and 66: Turn a silver key in a green door i
Page 67 and 68: kind. Streams of visitors poured th
Page 69 and 70: Perennial Cornflours in the Barbica
Page 71 and 72: She is the nest’s thought weaving
Page 73 and 74:
with red-rimmed eyes, full of hints
Page 75 and 76:
Churchyard Birds For centuries, roo
Page 77 and 78:
William Henry Barrett Garden: Eastb
Page 79 and 80:
Galencials 79
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Mixed Borders

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