2451
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17.ix.26
morning
and first past
the glass
the cows for
entertainment
they shine with
a breath of sun
tumble the
valley across
with eyes of
awe
and kindly so
find my
irrelevance
open a few
doors and windows
then there’s a
headsup for my sky
catch myself at
a heartbeat again
I’m watching
the trees go up
won’t you?
2450
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16.ix.26
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
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15.ix.26
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
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14.ix.26
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
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13.ix.26
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
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12.ix.26
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
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11.ix.26
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
