February 2013-March 2014
17 poets, 15 months, creating 1 contemporary reworking of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
See the Transformations Page for more details or the ‘Present Collaborations’ Tab
Poems Inspired by Book 14
Adam Wimbush and Rebecca Audra Smith
Sniffing the Art Frost
by Adam Wimbush
In an orbital temple given to a goddess
She raised them, inspired them.
And in thine honour metamorphed them, but
She had learnt to hate cycles.
Ploughing their last great-hearted incantations,
Scylla and mutual friends greeted my mind,
To ask of those eyes framed with wrinkles,
Those deep wells filled with spells and herbs.
Said I “Crave no cure for beast splicing.
To delirium. That is where I circle pray.
I come to vent her rage.”
Years dropped like feather bombs.
Nor perhaps my wounds; Skin Trophys,
From burgaling the Gods.
I found new unexpectedness.
I was loved and pleased, and,
Like incense burning we slipped into old age.
Our magic like a mist obscuring the soul.
With many a frenzy, horror filled me bristles.
Call Moly; a white bloom with a tough wide snout,
Fell over my heads as I watched
Belching chieftains from the main hills.
Anti-fates was back. Rising cautiously.
As the waves feared the bright sun.
It told of how scents ruled the air.
Keep well away from her erogenous zones,
For who really knows the earth?
As we pad ungratefully upon her crust.
But my thoughts wagged like excited puppy tails.
There were tons of changes, but,
I lacked the great bloody gobbets and thought flecks,
For I was born among the flux.
I felt the weight of the universe,
As I slithered in me roots.
I say all this mixed up from wine.
She is woven with plant cells,
from wood nymphs, shores and more.
No? They were our epic ripples too.
The worst was westward way.
Muses for the nymphs fair course.
Then gathering a glittering camp,
She rushed her smouldering charge of electricity,
She intertwined twice and twice she tamed the wild prey.
Leaping nimbly from ancient text,
We found her snaking within the long rivers of his veins,
My foam flecked woman.
And only the mad could tell the tale,
Of fostering Venus, who when a horse,
Favoured my passion shapes.
Black out. Lights burnt out.
Then eastward where lofty beasts are slow meat,
They are claimed by ghostly swarms instead.
Picks turn over the soil of fear.
As I recalled I was nowhere, nothing happened.
Now accept us.
Many deserve her anger.
She replaced her wings and mimicked oceans.
Together tossed in the sound storm,
I drove the lusty ship to the end.
The last kiss from her smiling scythe like lips.
Remember we are both ends of the light beam.
We wear the perfume of science.
Farm the pastures of conflicts.
In short we are all lost in the webbed heaven of ideas,
And all the ancient apples and bitter berries of Eden
Cannot disguise this disguise.
Glaucus and Scylla
by Rebecca Audra Smith
‘Sooner than my love will change, leaves will grow on the waters,
and sea-weed will grow on the hills.’
Sooner than my love will change
pigs will fly,
men turn to pigs,
fish marry birds.
You will speak in the tongue
of transformed animals.
You will bay and hoot
My love will not grapple
as Peleus and Thetis did.
Her shape rolling and tearing
My love will be rock steady,
as steady as Scylla,
monsters deep in the water,
stone gripping her veins.
You can find more about Adam and Rebecca here:
Rebecca Audra Smith