# 100 - the machine stops

9.4.20

100

the machine stops

a little rhapsody

come to the end of the graph

all fall

you wouldn’t have thought it would be like this

and where were you when…

I was trapped in the forest

tamed an ache

and up towards

have you had that dream

no hands to catch?

plenty pushing

no nothing,  no net

wind generated by the fall

you can dissolve in that too

all at home

and fight the demons there

because we are now in ‘the time’

it has come, not quite foretold

though hindsight says

the machine stopped

and I was stuck in the garden

I had the run of the creek

and looked up

blink

where are we now?  everyone wonders

road roared out its last

and the blade laid down

though maybe not

… that might have just been my dream

webs grew over my head though

someone moved into the walls

locked up tight as a drum with the weather

I was a kind of bellows

these must be the last days

too late to bunker

adopt a foetus position

have the volcano home delivered

some here some there

when the machine stops

couldn’t even count by ourselves

can still hear the digging though

and how long?

someone had had us marked down for believing

and someone had bought us a war

wash your hands

don’t be like that

later the children in uniforms

I spread my own rumour

threw the switch

radio last

now no world at all

the machine stopped

all fell into conversation

worked fears through

each insect of us bigger

I trained my own mosquito too

flesh and bones still went in

crawl breathlessly in the littlest poem

be in the underleaf, at soil

take my refuge there

and can you remember when we stopped hearing the machine

noticed no pilot light

no sausage coming out ?

as if tomorrow-ing the now

a four horse turn this apocalypse

how many zombies in?

still not dark enough for you yet?

my wine was coming in the post, tea too

I was back on line when the machine stopped

I was in it when it happened

had come with a spanner, gone crazy

chased the buttons after

I’m sure you remember that machine

stylized cogs

but what were we really making?

my shoulder as much to the wheel

and I know that you were with me

some say latte, a kind of spray

everyone wears it

to market, to market

and all the way home

one cage on top of another

don’t even know the creature’s name

shall we describe it?

crawling, delicious

face and fur, all paws

and we can do it

we can get through

when the machine stopped

borders all closed

you knew this could go one way or another

it was wake up or keep in the dream

can’t remember

was a long long time

couldn’t go anywhere

I threw down my fence

had a good old cow bellow

and was it bull or was it bear?

wallaby all watchful

here was the tallest of stories

nightmare some say

and downstream drift

sunshone lovely

now we were free

come again come again

roll up

to the day prayed for

see the towers fall

the machine gets up again

blind swagger

everyone goes down

and did

now stranded in the garden

turns of sun

turns of rain

vines lapped at my brow for omen

and wonder

had there really ever been a machine?

what  if we all just imagined together?

might we not furl all flags away?

ploughshares from what now?

leap forward

who will pay?

then when birds were back in the sky

I came indoors and saw

here are the twenty six tin letters

these are the chains to lose

wipe tear away

turn off the life support

it’s one way or it’s the other

welcome the brave new world  

#99 - signal virtues

8.4.20

99

signal virtues

breakfast of champions

out of the box

let’s consider kindness

and all of love’s little shows

compassion is one I like to get

should virtues ever shine on me

something gentle, loads of thanks

blessings and best wishes

piety – not so much

humility has limits 

mercy… let have a run with that one

shaming the devil won’t count for the truth

but wink and you’ll guess what they mean

already too much information  

demons are personal, you know

all sorts of fantasies we can just skip

patience is a handy one but tricky in such times

and there’s making people laugh

respect’s one I’m a fan of

(what do you expect?)

loyalty – there’s a trick

consider doing what you said you’d do –

reliability and trying your best

there’s gentleness and tenderness

being aware and taking care

somewhere over the rainbow

there’s pots of gold to castle kings

straight tie, neat suit, lovely frock

won’t cut it

but being there in a crisis

proffering shoulder, lending an ear

offering asylum, help to the helpless

the needful to the needy

straightforward stuff !

also there’s looking after yourself

it takes a certain silliness just to see the joke

some curly headed rough and tumble

lots to stand up for

breathe deeply

look up

take in the stars

then yes there are the negative virtues –

not being an arsehole and such

we don’t count calling out the seven deadly

but certain kinds of witness

get to wear the little crown

and upside down it on the table

with levelling with

and owning up

salt and pepper

hard or soft

you choose your own spoon

some knock things on the bottom

some like to tap the head

just be a good egg, won’t you

shouldn’t cost you much

lead by example –

your own reward

and here’s the nub

you’ve been too quiet

if you’ve got a virtue

signal it!

the others need to know

#98 - in this skin

7.4.20

98

in this skin

(a given again)

follows ‘one fine day’, for godsbother

in this skin

hours obey

like any other colour

and temperature in tune

rhythm tin hat too

down in the last shower

my bona fides

a touch through itch to season

and all the forest’s barking

ancestors! some by the skin

of their teeth

wool over eyes

all sadly gone

at every point a different life took on

with always a new word tripped me up

that was breath between

as in the garden

so many of the nameless fell

there’s the part of me believes

it’s all still there –

my mother’s house

the bombed out city

a library at Alexandria

in it my father’s lost novel, The Crazy Prophet

and the one he never finished, The Man from Overdraft

no longer unedited

now remaindered

still under the pool table in the shed  

there’s danger, Will Robinson

and where’d those eyes get blue?

but I was born a passenger, never to arrive

cryogeny

a porthole wink for wonder – coasts!

reefs and atolls, the glass bottom

(some say floor)

mainly it’s been deck games

dreamy cabins, labyrinth of tides

some stubble out and reaching

luxuriant too

stretch as far as get it in

anyone would

we all had to have been helped

in the dizzies with testing an edge

be like the world, go round

a self forgets me frequently

still I keep the borders as if they were mine

now in the garden, which tree’s he?

grapefruit I believe, halved, bear-honeyed

at the top

by tendril tucked, vine over

the ordinary secrets

take down your fences

overrun top paddock too

we’re all of us buried there

in the company of pumpkins

of course we cannot picture

those who have already

gone to a better place

 

#97 - two poems - aubade and a crocodile yellow

6.4.20

97

two poems

aubade

in a glow beginning

April if  

from all the corners dreaming

take a turn around the firstness

where the sun is up for bright

you cannot say a shadow’s shown

in the dim yet still

consider fire

or fresh invention

mind whirrs with

back to bed?

or

up for all?

see from bright nothing

where the first bee comes

louder than least of birds

so know

all golden the ages of us

a crocodile yellow

took a walk out of summer

every day beginning

mulberry confused

it was pumpkin time

tomatoes asked after

and find them first, before the birds

mulberries, I mean

first day of the new clock

and the kookas

in their little sunshine party

these days the creek still being run

heard saws and other blades swept low

end of days, many felt

you’ll get that

and in the lily wash of pond

beside, reflected branches

the lesson –

take a sip

.

are we not all eyes towards?

times the head’s poured out

enough or as required

distance keeping to itself again

and bear in mind

it could always be too late

one day must be

yes we will be thrown the shadows

all of a wonder was

.

weren’t they a prayer for help?

the garden is weak with superstition

and have my wilderness at home

.

far lusted

caught up

sleight of tilt

a sun so soon

the leaves are dry

out with the day

late afternooning

sunshine lifts all spirits high

when so soon after rain

.

precious

nose in the good stuff

thing embodied

here observing

storied, told about

considering still

all selfwardly and out

because this way spoken

suddenly too beautiful out

too lovely to be elsewhere

then here is the garden at home

.

of the nest and fork

of the elk and stag

bark – moist, raw or gone

butterfly white

butterfly yellow faded

butterfly orange and black

.

l’après midi du soleil

these three swamphens

like pilgrims visiting to nest

come into a tidy season

much moon but not enough

in the stood still

built a dabbling castle

village to keep mosquitoes fierce

sun having quit the valley’s distance

yet the high birds have it still

.

call this autumn

nothing falls

the whole 360 round of world

is coming to its green

.

fresh in the words I am

as anciently interred

as anyone who ever spoke

so it must be with the lemons gone bush

.

all its own colour until the ridge has it

so fiercely went the sun

we follow

some things in plague can change

it’s like this every year

with the discovery of fire

.

in all the lush of it we stir

until the last light still