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Sunlight
The innocent child
who wandered from his path and is lost
cannot see
through his ponderous lenses
a way out of the forest
neither can he walk
in his glistening new shoes
without the leather tightening around his tender feet
and the books in his satchel
whose contents he has memorized
only weigh him down
so he jettisons geography
and history and decides
to go barefoot.
He drinks his milk
tosses the flask
takes off his spectacles
eats his green apple
throws away the core
discards the cumbersome smock
and wades deeper into the ferns
with their delicate hands
prompting him.
Sometimes the sunlight
breaks through the cover of trees
to illuminate his pallid face
as if it were a raindrop
hanging from the tip of a leaf
heavy with sleep
and with nobody to catch it
when it falls.
Ghost Flight of the Doves
As the moth above the mountain
spreads its wings across the stars
the doves fly back to Earth.
They course through the forest
in a constant stream
with the rush of foliage
beneath them. Swerving between trees,
dipping to water,
silent as shafts of moonlight,
they tumble and turn
in their thousands. Darkness melts
into them. They have come
from the caves where they sleep
by day, and they shine
as never before. They need
nothing now but to feel
the air flow
through their plumage, then at the rising
of the sun to disappear
all at once, leaving
no leaf from their path disturbed.
Work
The men who wait for trains
shine their shoes
on the backs of their trousers
when they hear the whistle.
They dust off their lapels,
stub out their cigarettes,
adjust their caps,
and run a finger through the sweat
around their necks.
They stand in line,
one after another
asking for a suitcase to carry.
Day after day,
year after year
in the same dusty suits,
wearing the same crumpled shirts,
they repeat the ritual:
shoes, lapels, sweat,
and as the quiet sun
warms the station forecourt
they grow old on their feet,
smoking one brand
all their lives.
David Chorlton lived in England and Austria before moving to Phoenix in 1978. His paintings, mostly watercolour,
have been exhibited in Austria and the United States. Collections of his poetry include FORGET THE COUNTRY YOU CAME
FROM from Singular Speech Press, and OUTPOSTS from Taxus Press in Exeter, England. Essays and reviews have appeared
in The Arizona Republic, National Catholic Reporter, Poet Lore, and in several online publications. His chapbook, COMMON SIGHTINGS,
was a recent winner in the Palanquin Press Competition. Recently David has had poems in 3rd Muse and Thunder Sandwich and
Adirondack Review, all online publications. He continues to appreciate most the Arizona landscape and its birds. Slowly,
he is beginning a new series of paintings in his visual arts life. He continues to paint in Phoenix, trying to discover
something lyrical between the high-rise buildings and the houses beneath them. This is his twenty-fourth year in Phoenix,
and he still struggles to adjust! David Chorlton grew up in industrial Manchester, England, before moving
to Vienna in 1971 and staying there for seven years. His travel around Europe during that time left him with
a full bank of impressions that continue to surface in his work. The Southwest provided the eye-opening experience
of stunning scenery and an awareness of nature that he was not prepared for. His short collection of poems, Common
Sightings, with a desert theme, won a Palanquin Press award in 2001, and a new book, A Normal Day Amazes Us appeared
in 2003 from Kings Estate Press.
Email: David Chorlton
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