Jeffrey Side has had poetry published in various magazines such as Poetry Salzburg Review, and on poetry web sites such as Poethia, nthposition, eratio, Ancient Heart, Blazevox, P.F.S. Post, Great Works, hutt, ken*again, and CybpherAnthology. He has reviewed poetry for New Hope International, Stride, Acumen, and Shearsman. From 1996 to 2000 he was the assistant editor of The Argotist magazine. He now runs The Argotist Online web site.

Call Me to the Wind

Call me to the wind
and I will herd the shepherds in.
And floating leaves that crisp beneath my feet
will not wake me from my vividness.

I can see the room
that never left my gaze.
And I can hear the leather of your shoes
approaching me as

I sit beneath a temple
whose worshippers have gone, long ago,
to collect the lamps 
that light the trees.

They saw the fall
and tempted us away from here.
But in that sprinkled moment
we felt ourselves immune and chaste.

So we cursed the leaden boxes 
as we fell too far to see the shiny vapours
that led to the stream
where the horses sleep.

When You Were Tempered With Delight

When you were tempered 
with delight
your virtues were taken 
down and forests 
that you passed through 
were not finite. 

When you were 
tempered with delight 
you kept the 
saddest oceans, you kept 
the proudest streams. 
And wild pens 
would not strain your sight. 

When you were tempered 
with delight 
you carried sand 
upon your necklace and 
cream upon your 
lips. And you 
never made the journey
through the park.
 
When you were 
tempered with delight 
you were 
consumed by bikers in the light 
and nurses in the dark. 
And taut strings 
pulled 
on you forever. 

When you were tempered 
by delight 
strong bars were held around 
your fortress 
and strong men could never 
kiss the wound you would always hide. 

B Block

You keep your 
services for them.
You keep 
the church they know.

And they make 
donations regularly
with 
one hand on your head.

They lean you 
down towards 
the cup.
You sip the overflow.

You lick your lips
and move your fingers 
far apart.

You have no town 
inside you 
now.
You have no 
travellers there.

Did you send them home again?
Or did they leave for better fare?

I was the one who 
landed upon 
your 
lessened wing.

You had me
and then you had 
your king.

I came to you a broken ring
I danced inside 
your mouth.

I gave you all my money
before you let me in

I couldn’t be a saviour now.
I couldn’t be 
a queen.

I keep looking around 
for things 
I haven’t seen.

I seldom wandered in 
your night.
I seldom took 
the fall.

Now deep inside 
I know
there’s no 
one else to call.

Distorted Reflections

Make room 
inside the 
steaming glove 
if you 
have time to sell. 

Keep to the right 
all things 
that please 
and things will turn 
out well. 

You must come 
down 
upon your knees 
and admit 
to all your thefts. 

You must come 
down 
upon your knees 
and pay 
the fine that's left. 

I cannot explore anymore. 
I cannot count to ten. 

The downward journey 
was not fair 
and roads congest again. 

You have your torches 
and have 
become the symbols 
you despised. 

You cannot live a lie 
this way 
and still keep the things 
you prized. 

Voices in the Light

Sometimes voices 
in the light 
will call me back to them. 

Back out of this 
place where 
I have spoken from. 

And then I will turn my 
back on you, 
and on the storm-bled sea. 

And even 
on the sleeping faces 
that will never wake for me. 

I will find myself 
expanded 
out of limitations plight. 

And no earthly cause 
or battle 
will keep me in this fight. 

And what will seem like 
nothingness to 
those that have remained

to me will seem like 
childhood 
when in the time of May. 

Poems Copyright © Jeffrey Side