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30.iii.26
breeze is waking steps through spent grass
in the Botanical Gardens
a tree is only
reaching
and that’s the why of
up
we colour it will
seeing
hoof it
summer to the shade
far fling of such
a few steps in the
garden show
world’s turn for an
illusion
there’s always a bit
of sky
always a bloom of
whiff
I make a midst of it
sending words
where they won’t want
to go
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29.iii.26
stairs run up me here
below the flower
there’s more of a
story
in an old face
give money to a
beggar
make a wish
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28.iii.26
the Carnival Splendour is leaving
pathetic fallacy
it’s like three
cherries come up
it’s duty free we’re
soaked in
there’s a water slide
a tug to the heads
all ashore
your better judgement
not wanted on the voyage
past pinchgut and the
carrier grey
they take the tide
boat with a drunken
lope
they crowd the
railings who desire foolishly to go
hither and yon
fled forms
the ferris wheel,
jolly jaws
hip hip
and where are the
streamers gone?
like it says on the
side
‘choose fun’
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27.iii.26
clarity
for the Gore Cove Track Series
there is the blue of
it
lit with our going,
coming
our standing just
here
a day as if carved
from
ant hollowed
what was burnt and
what will
shadows fixing, cloud
flit
least crevice a
mudspark
passage of a sun to
task
cloud no shade
tussle of furl-down
roots
the knowing of turns
and next
stone where the foot
has worn a way
lain its thousand
years
and still under the
blue of it all
steps down, up
and steps away
only the voice of the
stream
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26.iii.26
cut out of the picture
ekphrastic for
Nahom Teklehaimanot’s ‘No Shore for the
Living, No Shore for the Dead’
there is no face but
made of another
no hand but must have
held
lips and all the
world drawn out –
disguises, chains of
gravity
the dove of exile
wings to say
the grimace
a chess field
if there is a mask to
wear
it’s all the eyes to
haunt me still
one feels how we all fall
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25.iii.26
can any eye take all in?
ekphrastic for Grace Cossington Smith’s ‘The Curve of
the Bridge’
all for art
this geometry is open
ended
stands on stone
another shore approaches
the funnels of mother
pass under
arrive
distance is infinite
tools down this hour
workers absent
shadow falls over
itself
strange weights
a frame of leaving
time’s arc
we could have left it
there
one more harbour sculpture
not all of it ever
yet to be crossed
there’s a sky of
gradual strokes
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24.iii.26
mind your step
Gore Cove Track Series
slippery when first
lit
try not to muddy
here’s hat collecting
here’s running of the
creek
as rain from nothing
falls
your puddle’s just a
sky come down
look up!
cliff adorned in
creep
I call it another
country
every day I’m here
sun as through glass
I gather to the page
first shadows then
show
colour of stone shows
and all around the
shining
I like a leaf green
mistlight
take eye to the top
of the tree
a leaf in the
afterfalls
day upfurls
everything rain
touches, blessed
cove is a shimmer
skein tide in
prints in wet sand
where it’s out
close, like this
heaven is
heavens are
and then the wash off
these few notes
falling away
