Two poems from ‘Moving’ by Scott Thurston

What can you say? To think with the body as subject

and object at once change flows through the pattern.

In the push and pull of yes and no, word’s edge

is a body of thought, such way out feeds time back.

Okay to keep eye contact with myself in rehearsal,


to imagine a focus beyond audience. Your own ego would.

Judging other’s egoism to be shared as my own is exposed,

finding it hard to let go into levity. To whom did the

screams appeal? Still once a day is shorter in sound –

each phrase becoming an object hanging in space.


Let movement follow sound, track out up to the beam.

Increase the range of tone, pushing a volume between

hands, touching the limit of the moving imagination.

An impulse to touch a line now forgotten across our

Distance. Bringing too much effort toward meaning,


let me stay in my body’s direct gesture in

the alignment of the spine. I see you seeing me

stay closer to myself. From shape to gesture to expression,

a trialogue between thought, word and movement: the moving

thinker writes and having moved writes on.


Expressive beyond reason, our arms and heads go round

in a circle making internal connections: another sweat angel

on the floor. Purity. Objects that can’t object to what we

cannot bear: impulses and choices to follow, affects brought

forth as love in movement.








What are you doing with this poem? You take it all in,

make some choices, take some decisions, or you don’t. To split

your individuality from your self, from your ego dissolved in spirit.

Its particularity might lead to generality, or vice-versa, or not.

Waiting for the impulse to start, step on to the navigation


point as imagined witness, addressing what is prepared for you

as a present, trying to see the movement. Not enough time

in the world to wait for it: is it a choice or something

that comes unbidden into attention’s domain? Listening

for the sounds of the other moving in the room,


making my own sound to detect the shape of the space.

My lip touches the edge of a table. Touching the edge

of syncopated, harmonised reduction; conflict bodies

for the logoclast. All these things at once hook left

then right, twist and push away, turn and absorb


body to body. Try to be beautiful as you use the word

quiet at the window. Judgement stops movement.

Language fell away. Language fell to. Stop

movement. Get the language working again,

releasing out from the centre to the edges.


Trusting that you can follow your energy without

refusing others’ shape and disperse: trying something

to find it wrong also. I try to perceive this in relation

to the colours of different flowers in proximity, and,

going up to a rose, my perception of it has changed.

SCOTT THURSTON’S most recent book is Figure Detached Figure Impermanent (Oystercatcher, 2014). He co-organises The Other Room reading series in Manchester and co-edits the Journal of British and Irish Innovative Poetry. Scott lectures at the University of Salford and has published widely on innovative poetry, including a book of interviews entitled Talking Poetics (Shearsman, 2011). See his pages at

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