Wednesday, April 17, 2013

the stratigrapher

married to patterns in strata
she knew land language
translated granite to geometry
with rose scented hands
imposed the grid
anchored in bedrock
in her home floats in the sky
where the sunshine
where the sunshine is
just a little closer to thee
and thee and thee
anchored to bedrock legends
spelled in geology’s design
we turned through
after dark
the milkyway
printed stories on black
we saw a red moon’s last flicker
as it fell flaming to the sea
gloom extinguished white stars
hours layered dark
before light was summoned by crow call then magpies woke and redtails cheered  

Sunday, April 14, 2013

after party

Went to the North Perth house, took cakes chosen with care, raspberry, lime, vanilla, apple, cream, custard, pastry, crumble, real fruit. Drove. Drove. Drove. Avoided other’s duco, indicated with law abiding courtesy, yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir, Paddington Street speed humps grunted twenty twenty twenty at my shockies, padded down the sand path, wrapped cakes crinkled, bike shop shut, bus stop empty, burnt out ute, sign posts to the right house, party house, barbeque in the afternoon house, the abandoned party began at the verge, stumbled past the wiper-snipper cowed cactus, smashed up the steps, stubbed out on the garden path, broke on the veranda, spewed through the hall, the kitchen and staggered on out into the art installation backyard, where still it seemed, men danced, women danced, smoke curled, snags sizzled, onions sparked taste buds, dark liquid swirled into jars, in corners, on grass, heads, shoulders, bodies mounded together, thump, twang, bass mutter, bouncing ball words — shades, shadows, traces — all still, still there but now morning sunlight harder than a concrete head slam, exposed rot¸decay with glint and sparkle.

we cut the cakes
cream custard
road kill guts
squeezed out
we fell on it like wild hungry puppies

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

babies — two

time to sit still — a shuffle — a paper dropped — a thoughtless sigh — will send them into the air — babies — two — feral doves — just left home — finding it almost too hard — taking the sun — I hope they have learned about cats — they are a food favoured by cats — do they know this? — these babes from out of the woods — I want to give them seed but maybe it is better they learn their own birdy ways.