tribe best brilliant white
drink water
bill
the high altitude brings us closer to the sun
us we we tribal people of the sun
hesitate when it matters
speak in chimes to riddle the parent tongue
taking this high english
a great deal to heart
to din on the plastic bin
when he tried to drink
there was a hunger movement
re
1
the latest savages
took refuge at sea
tired tinsil
unbound
trailed sawdust
this reasonable life raft
trembled as grown men
under sky
2
green is yellow
thunder brighter
this long brown pencil
as sure as savages
as sure as recipies
as sudden as hobnail boots
on WW2
and this ashes test
and gay abandon
wrapping a care
a forest of thickly sliced
bread, awaits
in coles
let’s go there
see the girl on the checkout
from Russia
the fierce one
let’s lay bread out
on the conveyor
before Josie notices
I haven’t done this before
as she takes a slice
and returns it to the bag
holy roses
it’s the start of may and the flannelette sheets are on the bed, powder blue for comfort. i’m taken by a sense of camaraderie with the lonely, we always had it, believing greatly that our stories were our free hands, played for now and in the spirit of ‘our holy miracles’ and not that it mattered, counting matchsticks for currency, beer and cigarettes, laminex bent out of shape in the rain,
we comrade, were a simple tune o.k.
not that it would bend your pretty nails out of shape but that time on the merry go round was not o.k. it was a shadowy afternoon, on the brink of winter and the city was closing down to ordinary business. why did i want to be a freak and ride beside my cousin on the elephant? why did i want to visualise my pony on the pony? riding free to the fucking hilltop. well i was riding round and the curious ticket man was more marvellous as he stood beside the machine, piped music all out and over the empty circus. i wouldn’t have liked to ask for more than my share. how that changed.
return to the plum in red all summer and about to lose the leaves and what now? what answer do you give a child when the ride is over, when puzzled and creased like the new red polish she arrives full of empty street and strange man and cavernous elephant? a pretty afternoon comrade. this took shape in all my dreams.
today it feels like that, like you cousin. i’m using you for drama. we were used cousin, cus. used. brave little soldiers taking note, when the evening wore on and the bedroom was safe enough to pick our fingers through abandoned cosmetics. and to jump headlong into each other and you know.
she eats dessert with the main
hurls the tray to the keep
she has a light
(on the roof racks)
single line
she had a lighter
sparks of fury
fury is keeping tongue
is unheard
is tremulous
fuck
sorry
had a winner
quite a punter
and the city, the town
ferries and such
in keeping with a modern convenience
a mode
where’s my cigarette
this sunday i sell posies
grim herbs
taking down the corners of a smile
worn too often
battered flowers
rusted laughter
god it’s heard
grieving
in the market place
in the stalls
the valuable sleep
wake dreaming tide
all is taken on
light shells of phrases are bent
taken to heart at home
drifts of images
i have a friend who lists a beginning
on the paper bag of paper
tea
(‘ajikan’ is a piece of classical music; translated as ‘meditation on the sound of a’)
asleep a stop cock
tide pulling return
drifts of images tumble shells
in the chocolate isle
at home
in the dark and sudden interruption
i feel mad
meditation on the sound of a
ajikan
the first phrase
talking
the gap between the bathroom and hallway
where the water runs
melts the floor boards
room for a piano
er sun
metered dial climbs steadily
on stretch of landfill
bright anemones darkness filled
builders making carriages of pleasure
untimely marriage to excitement
fumbling architects
why don’t they just stop
a narrow sensibility
it takes in nature and the artifices
like traffic lights
invisible pointless nothings
tremor on the nature scape is composition
lichen rock and river mountain breeds
the firey and
what is not seen lies
in his lap a blur
as the car pulls past the vestige
described in hasty silences
look to the mountains
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