#181 - two poems - what goes on in the poem stays in the poem & winter middling

1.7.20

181

two poems

what goes on in the poem stays in the poem

a little metabusiness

in bright and secret corners

in out my own horror

beam godshaft

through breathcloud

where you become your parents

then there’s the burial alive

[stay mum]

make a lewd suggestion

over course must over think it

without which how would the race go on

species, genus, class and order

?

a poet proposes so much never happens

this is the legislative branch

(known as)

what’s the opposite of harem?

completely surrounded

we call this unwanted advice

a certain amount of aspersion

poem seasoned

withered with draft

(called up but resisted)

in which each word points another and so on

open to orifice fundament instance

not holy for having sat in a church

but here’s the living thing

I met you cloudslung compromised

water – keep moving

bones up – dance

yes could be a story

but you had to have been there

in the poem

take shelter storms of

God’s not listening again

(the everyday prayer is too much)

still poem of heavens and gardens – a gift

it is the gift in words

from under and beyond

country no one could quite steal

went in fear of abstractions there

it is where I was forgotten

everything’s melted

won’t do what it’s told

trap woes

change climates

swap back again

there is secret notation

where I am limber up

have to remember the PIN

it’s the same thing in the picture

a forest and a garden

the setting out to sea

what goes on in the dream stays in the dream

come by sleight of mind to it

inbox out mouth anus

poem as worm farm

it’s only the heart ever gives

please say hello to the folks

what goes on in the poem’s

round around the garden

and

tickle you under there

pinch and a punch again

a winter middling

when the world finished turning

this is the stillness come to

eyes wide

other seasons expire here

middling months

something ancient in winter

I’m woolly mammoth

beany and tusk it

some think a discontented thing

twitch of the witherbirds

catch kindling, flame

collect the sun

so warm to

#180 - pre-dotage

30.6.20

180

pre-dotage

under the radar

and wits about

I come up the path

with what weather we have

and winter lit

lost in my own writing

long curlicues

and devilish tails

kind of a black and white garden

some people said ‘lucky’

where I’d arrived

fortunate few watching on

blogwise

I was in the hinternet

had a blue tooth

(before and after

no one would understand)

you simply had to be there

played ironies, all sorts

so much rattling noise

a headsup

and the ringing

finally, in age advancing

got to be young

saw everything for a first time

so many doors and windows

all the eyes of heaven

the hot and the far

lovely to know

can still get cold

look around

so much

and nothing to steal

steam from both ears

that’s an idea

see stars overhead

or I say lightbulbs

puzzled all selves

with the game making

inkling at a time

in spring slap paint

then I will be precious commodity

and greatness, like love

I know   

that comes from

giving up on it

sometimes in centuries

yes or no

otherwise

do what you have to do

the dance is my music

bones only towards

draw the circle string

chalk close

and now – ladies and gentlemen

for the first time

and here as never before

to climb dive

get a bite on the log

tread hot coals

swallow fire

and leap through

ready for the unravelling

sleep – I go back there

… hard to believe

it isn’t the place I am from 

#179 - know your country

29.6.20

179

know your country

coming after Kerri Shying

名可名，非常名

read me the ways cannot be told

first up to where we are

(from here and everywhere)

anyone happens in a skin

who told the differences

can’t help

here’s where we happen to

how we’ve come

doomed

or let’s decide to be

first person plural of another tongue

touch

and that’s this me too

                                        

sing out!

all over the shop

and wide brown

bullshit divining the minerals under

goldmine on which we sit

you’d like a word to mean one thing

but that’s not how it works

tell me again

that’s why we’re here

may I know what has been taken?

how can that country still be there?

tell me the names

though the language is lost

and so many creatures

and seasons

see the skill in the stone

and who cast the stars?

over the white-sliced homestead

who fenced the cloven hoof in here?

still it’s love to listen

have a heart

must I not untribe to see?

then who would be me?

come back to place

other ages are in it

what’s more precious than…

the questions

the questions

I call them the under-country

and come to the end of a spear

stolen!

why would you do that?

take a picture and gone?

this is the country you drag through court

bugs the other’s cabinet room

to get the greedy oil

and throw truth out

that’s my right or wrong

salute

take your tableaux

take a bow

be a statue for the country

same old

complicated story

who is it wishing me out of the world?

someone was living in the river once

dust

and the river ran along

but time was here a long way before us

came the clock and pants

trees before people!

keep finding new ways to pinch things

keep finding new things to pinch

and out of thin air

place of my gathering

always a kind of wherever-you-are

but someone was here before

if we belonged it would be different

of course I contradict myself

how else?

still want to be

the mirror in the land

and smoke the ill away

it worsens but we stay

read me the ways cannot be told

respect

for who was here

respect for those who know

country                                                                       

is a kind of club

the bright the dark return

consider the usurping king

whose prayers won’t rise

is your guilt in the right corner yet?

who’s no hypocrite?   show me!

you can cling to the least little raft

nobody ever walked here

call it country

among the series, is it?

nation – first, second, how many?

here’s the thumping state

all lovely in authority

still tribe if you ask me, well armed

and so much secret business

there was no asking was there though

facts are what we accomplish for

and no one will resile

apologize

which way to point your spiral?

here’s the rug out from under

a country of awkward aches and static

how strange the new arrivals

country

something to tell and proud

but please stop saying that word

shows off the chips on the shoulders

like warrior – what the fuck

nobody did that full time

because it was a better world

yes lost and we imagine from bones

and flesh them

say skirmish

say Treaty – make peace!

quit the black and white pretending

what did the Romans do for?

as if there were no gap

the punishments are still inflicted

evolved with careful spite

war’s in the heart

where the facts are denied

but the country can make a clean breast

and so yes there is a side to be on

doomed to be

or let’s stand up

native of

I call on Gondwana, be my witness

all in it together

who’s for the fires till the forest is gone?

who ran the river away?

 I blame, I do

it’s necessary

country wouldn’t know you from Adam

have to coax it back

remember me

once had a skin

so kin

walk with me won’t you?

thin shaky ledge

country of truth

and find it as you fall

I come from my own far story

not even mine to remember

and making it up as I go

important to you as yours to me

on it

in the DNA

and welcome home

a little lost

I know I’m not from here 

#178 - old flame

28.6.20

178

old flame

it’s after that last roaring summer too close

keep fire in a bright little box

watch it and tend

see the dramas there

lost ant committed

spare efforts sundry likewise

flame

and in a box roar

look in through the window

of course it would be hell in there

life and death to see

warm by it

socks first

feet inside

and up from there

colours!

you won’t have to tell them

it’s like the orchestra’s inside

stretch out our own hands to it

bright reminiscences!

who’ll remember the plight of that one fateful log?

but all of the tree went in

all night of the sometimes terrors

only in my head

burning the whole world by bits

all that’s damp dries out before

once the sun’s sunk

see it here

ask

how could we catch a star in a box

mornings in a bright rise

come

worship the sacred ash 

#177 - come to the unbrinking

27.6.20

177

come to the unbrinking

flourish of self

my comfort in these arms

like mountain come to the foolish old man

here’s mesa top to cliff it

fell over ourselves to get here

forests fall over

and into the drink

raced a clock

to dinosaur ourselves

and came to it unthinking

grit in the wheel

heavens come to a halt

knavish and stiffnecked

bring all your apocalyptrix

some smoke with my mirrors please

flatten the heart

and come to the edge

have you seen dreams sinking?

always a choice till – who calls too late?

doom me

here in the old corner

vanish where

hasn’t somebody lived this before?

dance there backwards on the skates

can’t afford a slip up oops

who’ll be the first one blinking?

edge trapped in head and history

take a deep breath

down these steep stairs

that’s you in the lungs

and otherwise innids

world! have you thought of giving up smoking?

rest the drill and the saw for a bit

how about retire the guns?

are we all looking down now?

see the pit, dare ya

to come to your senses

on your marks

get set

bounce

feel that

and here are the gods in awe

come to it, won’t you, winking?

close call

step back

step away from the fiery car

#176 - nostalgia

26.6.20

176

nostalgia

back in the sixties

when I could this that still

and yearn a bliss for you

be golden

that was my number then

and I would serve ten years

nostalgic for things planned

tundra monsters were melting to life

I could just touch your toes

so much yet to invent!

skirt so short you could come to grief there

yellow submarine, Norwegian forest days

summer hike to tarn it

where I was the latest thing

young poet then

all potential

never and not for long

back in the sixties – drought, flood, green

collecting kindling, later warm by

a garden grows up around

only a matter of time

watch the market yo yo

call that superannuation

cute sputum, clear

all day playing with words

why should teeth concern me?

I love pumpkin soup

into the forests while they still are

commiserate koalas

a victim of my own digression

ache toe

down gout!

tracky pants to see me out

(phrase once would have shocked)

inked up!

I went into another black and white phase

someone said ‘don’t wish your life away’

and I was young enough to remember

don’t think I really have

tired early afternoon – siesta

try not to take any pills

utterly unsuited to gainful employment

thirty salutes to the sun

but other stars dimmer now

perfectly pandemic fit

light pollutes

absolute utterly

went to the beach just for a walk

and vanish in among tuned strings

I needed all the frets

two piles –

to read!

and to revisit!

for instance, the immortality plan

soon sackcloth, ashes, a brimstone brink

miracle the mail still comes

there’ll be drones in the smoke

and the cannibal chase

everything else we hold dear

why did they never tell us

have to clean between?

one might have looked forward to that 

#175 - fellow feeling

25.6.20

175

fellow feeling

in my dream

the names different
all except my own

slippers on the wrong feet

say it clearly

they have trouble to hear

time is alive there

wink for the pain we cannot know

who would have thought

such a family resemblance?

anyone can see

assume they know the story

all of these people can name themselves

out of the secret kept

even if the words are gone

each quiet with the past

and it is joy to be born beyond

worried I’ll forget

but everyone goes to forever

outdoor kind of café

and when you come back

I can’t remember how

to have them know you                    

think I was the baby passed around

precious because of the lost

my story

they believe

look for me to join the dots

you must have dreamt me here

don’t say

I know

I smell the cake will come  

and they can tell from my face

a drum for the top

and what cream!

never be lonely again

I wake with the word on my lips