2349
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6.vi.26
praise for
the rain
a little
dance
it waters the
weeds
drips down from
my hat
it empties out
clouds like nobody’s business
we catch it
unaware
as roof is my
witness
call it heaven
tumble too
smoke may stand
through it at times
brink brimly
apt to splash
muddy up
and sometimes
spears
here’s puddle
of once was
I raise my arms
out in it
you could call
that supplication
I call it and
it comes
2348
7.155
5.vi.26
brush with notoriety
once I
could have run over the skull
you might
think I should write The Skull
but why
give so much credit?
Redfern
Station, a pedestrian crossing
must have
been 1979
one end
or the other – I think it was summer
I can’t
remember whom he threatened at the time
certainly
he gave the appearance of a threat
raison d’être, you could say
my beetle
was a beast of power
the skull
was nazi steel
did you
know that the zebra crossing
was only
invented after the war
in which
we thought we had defeated the nazis?
but here
was a nazi in the flesh
means,
motive, opportunity
there
would have been plentiful witnesses
it would
have spoiled our next adventure
Odysseus
Beetle and me, I mean
at least
some broken limbs though
Murdoch
would have called me coward
others
would get the irony –
machine
against fascist, the machine man
how often
will opportunity knock?
I am a
weak bastard, I know
but it’s
just in that split second you have to decide
violence
is never the answer and yet
you see
it all around
I’m sure
I would have got out long ago
it was
good not to have made him a nazi martyr
it would
have been a different life
I’m proud
to have had these thoughts
I’m not proud of what I did
2347
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4.vi.26
the joy of
nothing gathered
of everything
just let
nor give nor
take
a day in the
blue is all beyond
there’s risk of
nothing to say
big animal
business – leave it!
and glamour!
nothing dead in
the trap today
that’s diving
in at the deep end
hearts, as of a
clamour
of course we
can’t
it’s natural
and the gone?
just let them
go
2346
7.153
3.vi.26
the way of
the wallaby
a little dao
for your day
the way of the
wallaby
is not the roo’s
way
is not the way
you go
the names of
the wallaby
are not known
to any of the wallaby mob
there isn’t a kangaroo
knows too
dry in the gone
whatever you
call them
in a good
season, more come
the wallabies
may be myriad, manifest
scatter just at
a footstep
knock of a car
on the road and they’re poof
the wallaby’s
way is a wonder
who knows?
it’s in the ears’
rotation
hop in hop out
it’s all in a
trick of the pouch
the wallaby
cannot be called by name
it’s often
still among a day
with others
else beside
the way of the
possum’s all up with a tree
the way of the
insect is under
ants will take
the posts down in time
and there are
other wings
cannot be known
from here
wire lies in
the way of rust
it’s over the fence
as if there were none
the wallaby
comes through our gate
it’s gone
was there a
gate ever there?
2345
7.152
2.vi.26
calling
it winter
by
the light come late
a
certain angle at
in
the gold beyond of falls
a
micro blue moon sets
possum
takes on the roof
a
pondlap frogspeak
all
those ducks take off
wing
reticence
lemon
ready
slow
grass now
you
put on pace to get around
harder
and harder to work up a sweat
flicker
of shadow low on a box
it’s
winter to the touch
a
little leaflessness
sporting
mulberry
yet
the bud puts out
there’s
no other name for this
it’s winter – I’m calling it now
2344
7.151
1.vi.26
it is one
day
there’s my
hurrah
dress for it
you’ll undress
too
reminiscent
yet
all its own
has
the hallmarks
the
lit moss
smoke
from next door
bones
in which to feel it
do
you think that you’ve been given this?
a
cockle warmer
did
you see it coming?
how
can it matter how we’ve come?
it’s
a hic et nunc
tautologous
too
just
this
a
twig in boots shake out
a
kind of finery
every
turn of the clock led
only
a day ahead of tomorrow
one
day
nor
is it any other
are
there more to come?
will
yesterday yet stand?
no
one to thank
none
to forgive
you
couldn’t have chosen this
