Friday, 31 December 2021
#730 - hide under a rock
1.i.22
730
3.1
hide under a rock
omikron panic
and
in the after-ping
how
fearfully a year begins
stay
home save lives again
possum
gods at the raised tomato
disguise
myself in stormpaint
then
the bug can’t catch
and
other superstitions
I
put on just for show
cross
the line from nothing to more
we’re
hiding under a rock here
happy
happy, damp at times
a
head out shines the kickstart sun
how
full of the past we are!
topping
all the graphs today
off
the panic scale
take
my biscuit jollies
roam
the acres
get
back under
what
wars?
what
plagues?
what
pestilence?
you’d
think when a year was over …
but
no one talks about anything else
set
weather catastrophic
for
whom this turn round time relents
cross
an arbitrary
we’re
actually under a smooth stone now
inscribed
with the breathless next words
ache,
cough, must suspect
then
breakfast
gods
were born today
it’s
day one in the big blank book
still,
a garden travels on
as
if in season
there
is occasional poetry
we’re
getting ancient here
a
tissue a tissue
apocrypha
too
under
the rock
deeps
of a well
and
swim back up to flower
see
how we’re making light?
esperanta serio #154 - la pajlhundo
154
la pajlhundo
estas mia fidela kunulo
iras kun mi kien ajn ion ajn mi pensas
bojas pro miaj imagoj
alportas la bastardhundoj al la rando
de konfeso
sed ili forglitas
vosto inter krurojn
ili mem havas nenion por diri
sed
mi pensas, ke vi scias
kion mi celas
the straw dog
is my faithful companion
goes with me wherever whatever I think
barks at my imaginings
brings the mongrels to the brink
of confession
but they slink away
tail between legs
they themselves have nothing to say
but
I think you know
what I mean
Thursday, 30 December 2021
and today ...
and today is the last day of my three grant from the Australia Council
for the writing of ataraxia
... an opus that may always be under construction
...
look on these works, ye mighty, and despair
so long, and thanks for the fish
#729 - three little poems to round out the year
31.xii.21
729
2.365
three little poems
none of which really work
in ours the empty air
word no one owns up
wrestle antennae
a lit whiff winter was
fine photons fell
pasticherie with luck
often I feel I could see further
were we to look under all
then distance is a kind of glue
as far as wherever we are
always a line underneath
bung dream
never starts off but you’re there
must have got the wrong end of the stick
I was in the wrong job
on the wrong day
at the wrong thing, moment
late!
wrong school, wrong class
got on the wrong train to not get there
it was the wrong station, wrong platform
I was in the wrong
carriage
barking up
backed the wrong horse
there, went
had to go back because I was
wearing thongs
and you can’t
would never have known if
I hadn’t looked down
say widdershins
say counterclock
you can see how it all
goes wrong
must have been a year’s wrong end
my wrong way face
misunderstood
I could remember coming out
but now I can’t find the key to the building
yours, not mine
first I find the wrong one
that’s convincing
someone lets me in
always kindness
but it’s the wrong place
the carpet tells me inside
and where’s the door?
that’s where I wake up in a pandemic
sick as a dog we are were will be
this has to be the wrong world
a sun is shining now
the year runs out
it’s just the one day
only one more
come on … you can
it’s less than a sleep to go
that’s what they’re saying
every clock’s egging
but we can’t go on like this
there’s nothing more in the tank
I kept the doors and windows open
that’s how breezed through
could say survived
and now the new year
is just footsteps away
and what a location!
so suck out the juice
squeeze the last drips
lick
cut the tube
and fingerscoop
make a cleansweep
no one would wish such a year on the world
but it looks like we’re most of us up for
another
now it’s the 9 o’clock fireworks for me
I mean on the telly of course
tuck up and sleep the year out
as I live and breathe
esperanta serio #153 - ĉiam
153
ĉiam
neniam diru ĉiam
nenio estas kiel tio
iu ajn uzas la vorton
iam devis engluti iom da dogmaĉo
gutas krano
ĝis la tanko estas seka
nenio estis
ekde antaŭ komenciĝo
salutu vin mem
ŝajnigi
sekuru la ĉiameco kontraŭ ŝtelo se konvenas
sed tio ne ŝanĝos la fakton
eterneco ofendos la mortintojn
(flagoj polvo kaj triboj longe enterigitaj)
mi estas mia propra horizonto
nin englutas stelo
kaj jen la vero
konatiĝas kun vortoj
de lingvo delonge malaperinta
kiel ĉiu amo
sennoma nun la antaŭe
kies atomoj ni ĉiuj estas
eterneco estas nebulo de pensado
kvazaŭ koloro estus rapida
kvazaŭ unu vorto por ĉiuj
la fajro en la libro en la koro
ĉio disvastiĝas
baldaŭ lumo ne atingos nin aŭ iun ajn
neniu estis ĉiam ĉi tie
neniu iam estos ĉiam
iu rifuĝinto diros al vi
la ĉiamo estas dezira vorto
iu ajn celas eternecon
devas ŝerci sin mem
neniam diru neniam
nek nek eterne
vojoj ne finiĝas
ili elĉerpiĝas
ĉio kuras for
always
never say always
nothing is
anyone uses the word
has to have swallowed some poxy doxa
tap drips
till the tank is dry
nothing was
since before beginning
salute yourself
on cue, pretend
hedge it from a theft if suits
that won’t change the fact
forever will offend the dead
flags dust and tribes long buried
I am my own horizon
we are swallowed by a star
and here’s the truth
acquaints itself with words
of a language long gone
like every love
nameless now the one before
whose atoms we all are
forever is fog of thinking
as if a colour were fast
as if one word for all
the fire in the book in the heart
the all is expanding
soon light won’t reach us or any
no one was always here
no one will ever be
any refugee will tell you
always is a wishful word
anyone aims at eternity
has to be kidding themselves
never say never
nor either forever
roads don’t end
they run out
