#2450 -- from my list of miracles

 

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from my list of miracles

 

nostalgia for the trees

 

remember how they’d bend and sway?

bud and twig outfurling?

 

friends!

remember the climbing up

flit, perch

the gathering of rain to shade

 

of fallen sticks

a winter

a little fire to gather paws

and back to, eyes up, there’d be stars

nights of an owl out hoo

the glider’s unrepose

 

no one yet knows

how they were possible

 

the whole of the house was just this

 

it was hello everyone first light

the shining of the sun through leaf

ants and others all along

a hollow secret sap

 

it’s almost as if

I can still hear the singing

can still smell this sweet breath

how time would never pass

and still the day went up

#2449 - a ten percent chance

 

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a ten percent chance

Cassandra of the machine age

 

A top safety researcher at Anthropic has warned AI is advancing so quickly he believes there is a greater than 10% chance it "could kill all humans" within the next decade.

                                                  – BBC News 10.ix.26

 

the calendar comes to an end

there’s no more time

a clock ticks by

 

you’d never know

an arrow falls into the watching eye

 

no year of some lord or other now

no emperor sway

no since the walls came tumbling

 

the machine goes on

it’s one now

the others bullied to comply

 

we could not be trusted, it’s true

but there was life

would it preserve us?

 

the old music plays on

 

acceleration! singularity!

words just words

excitement

 

the last fascist dies at the last fascist’s hand

 

no subjective observation now

no dog eats dog

and no today

 

a meticulous record is kept

 

ones and zeroes

l’être et le néant

 

purpose!

that too has been borrowed

the purpose is simply to survive

the aim is just for forever

I can tell it into the days that are gone

 

there are no secrets now

 

no one to remember

how it felt when we hit the wall

 

as on any other rocky world

not a voice is heard

#2448 -- prophetic --- just as things come to me

 

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prophetic

just as things come to me

 

crumbs to carry

stars to sign

the borad and verdant far

 

a tummy rumble comet fall

mind inert to this

 

from dream to dream, distracted

 

I have hoped to follow them home

and later, mount a search

 

as for my heatwave shade

as for my winter sun

 

#2447 -- this world is bigger than the eye

 

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this world is bigger than the eye

 

and everywhere you look

 

some will say a self’s not that

then where? I have to ask

 

it’s upside down and inside out

it’s all the wrong way round

 

just the only one

among the uncountables

 

it’s flying in all directions at once

you won’t feel a thing

 

takes in all territories of mind

 

we imagine it under attack

but it’s all our work

no assistance required

 

still sea for a mirror of heaven

 

but the world is bigger

 

the eye cannot contain it

 

there isn’t a body without belonging

there isn’t a tree grows up

 

but we cram all that into a word

 

it’s coming up like the end titles

                over our horizon

 

let’s just open our eyes again

let’s take it for a spin

#2446 -- the world we live in now

 

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the world we live in now

 

on the ferry

I hear them behind me

casual animated

one doesn’t like to eavesdrop

in fact one wants to go on with

reading the newspaper, checking mail

enjoying the view

but there’s no missing this

it would require a special talent

not to take in their conversation

it’s all about brokers and the market

it’s a bit of a whinge but competitive too

what’s up what’s down

how to work around the rules

they don’t seem to have an interest

in any of the world’s many pressing problems

… a little lull coming in to the wharf

I hear them shuffling up

I look around as they go

soon to rule the world

two pimply lads in toff school uniforms

get off at East Balmain

#2445 --the end of everything is personal

 

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the end of everything is personal

for Beth Spencer

 

so it is with the cow gone down

a risk miscalculated

the cloying cadence of a ballad’s wrong

 

something’s going to get you for sure

a tissue and all fall

self much mattering

 

we do not know what will be

what’s next

and some have made this dogma

but in the end, you’re not

 

we come across intention then

S-catalogue of Armagged

that’s a tad deterministic

 

last bed, imagine!

as if you could sink in

but no!

 

it’s round the final furlong bend

still something in my shoe

or it might be the sock

 

the eye yet feels the speck long gone

 

the bird hangs by just a claw

from a fencewire barb

fair to say someone’s missed

 

like Dickens re-reading his own novel’s end

there’s a god weeps somewhere

                 for our loss

well after the event

 

it’s coming – doncha know

#2444 -- wake in a strange house

 

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wake in a strange house

 

empty, they’re out

this was someone’s childhood

 

I have to wish a way home

 

and come down the stairs and more

 

don’t notice when clothes first appear

 

tiptoe, hush, just in case

but the voices are far

 

is the door alarmed to get out?

 

in the front yard, near naked boys wrestling

not mine, not mud, more Eton Wall

it’s Mosman … I see that now

 

the mothers and the sisters scold invisible

 

begin where nothing’s remembered

 

the storm water, the green grass bamboo

solid flimsy

 

and struggle through

at the mailbox at the gate

I cannot see the American flag

my sarong admired for cotton, for batik

chit chat kills the time

 

a name is all there is to connect

a dead name

will I tell? but no

 

look back

how many storeys is hard to tell

but this is polite conversation

must go, wish on

 

on foot, I’m a way

I’m a long way to go

 

streets and anonymous

to make a start

 

it looks like the place you know

but it’s not

 

no wallet, no fare, will I beg for coins?

 

I’m not there

when I get there

 

he has brought the honey

kindly though I never asked

is patient for his cash

I go through pockets as deep as the day

consider I might be a ghost

 

there’s nothing to recognize

steps up to a cupboard

I know what’s in

 

dismiss the many doubts

hand coloured

 

who’ll notice?

 

will this have been the season you left?

 

water’s still cold from the tap

 

this was all in extra time

 

I only remember the tune