2075
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5.ix.25
edging
ekphrastic for Janet Dawson’s 1960 Vers L’ombre
there is a hovering
to object
each its own cloud
drawing with paint
carries a storm’s
remains
colour
and its others
field
framed to our bounds
there’s fire in a
storm
many so
various
suggesting
drama
in
these acts of a page
wall’s
torn from a world
as if
memory for fact
just
the rough idea
paw flourish
there’s a sky of
white
where a moon’s spread
thin
there’s time to
yellow all
2074
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4.ix.25
the magic track
Gore Cove Track Series
in
days of moss
and
slippery
in
the after falls
a
tickle in the mist
undervine
overlog
the
wind down of the day then
a
drip shelf at the foot
scratching
through mud
listen
up! and look!
the
sky was always a conversation
familiar
old refrain
the
last word is a bird
and here comes our harbour
tricks
up a tide
stones
are stepping out
have
you noticed how everything rises
and
some of this came down in a shower
some
of it with wings on a breeze
I,
myself, along, afoot
we
all just happened here
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3.ix.25
a touch of sky
you hear them all working
it’s in the glimpse
heart upward
a rhythm like the rest
of bleached bones as we are
great lung
a forest thereof flutter
tendril too
as green as having
tuned to the thing
lose a self to see
it is a lettered vault
motley for the tumble
throne of beard and quaff
I reach for the rounding fruit
the bird of whimsy before
the paws all supplication
home of stone upstairs
in the nature of
lick of polish too
just breath of it the voice sustains
stars far off for firing
moon pales on in phases
a sun’s just there to bright it all
for a touch of sky
all sing
2072
6.245
2.ix.25
biscuit tricks
on a
perfect biscuit day
the light as wrenlet
wearing blue
an eyes up afternoon
unprecedented moss
in shed
death of a mouse
bird’s urging out
a fire, its metonymic sticks
one bucket is the rain yet left
the time has come
and if it fails, it fails
pyjama folk
trees pointing
the all at play again
2071
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1.ix.25
the whimsy
for the
dream book
never too
young or too old in your dream
scale a
mountain
meet the
gorillas
never too
far
but the
boot won’t connect
net’s full
of holes
must go
you know
it
low growl
streets
out hunting as if
it’s how
the maps remember me
bird like
a rusty gate
self
diagonal with sleep
I stim
fetch the
spent rhyme
as has
served
never too
rich or poor
the ache
is on
but true
mind
for
impediment press
still,
storm’s out of body
action’s
unscripted
a dry
night till
but it’s
too cold for light
a mitts
and yet fur fling
name’s on
the tip of my lip
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31.viii.25
you keep the sea in your soul
so called
such days
as desert
was
top of the
head for a chimney
doom as
much
so much
luck in just one body
past an
hour these minutes
sunshine
under glass
stretch
self into a day
and more
of me upstairs
squeeze
here
sad with
the facts
a treetop
sway
prepared
again for the impossible
all the
things that could have happened
they are
with us too
2069
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30.viii.25
the silence in the scream
man in
blizzard with guns
outlash of
kiddy
fiddler not quite caught
sovereign of
do-what-the-fuck-I-want
here’s an
urge
wind to
cut a man in two
imagine
the hero’s bullet hail
these
decades prepping
congealed
adrenalin
the
shooter, victim strew
winter
tough
righteous
of survival
he is admired
out of the law
even quietly,
beer over
thinks it’s
America
bushranger
too
down the
minseshaft bunker with Hitler
he’s
rubbing two sticks together
there’s
petrol
there’s
testosterone
everybody’s
glued to a set
and some
would like to see him rot
some want the
authorities hanged
latter day
Kennedy brings a dead bear
the
vaccinated come
find him
frozen
biscuit
harmless
sat up
make his
tomb the mountain
ask where did
we go wrong-
