peach blossom

peach blossom

foray
attacked from behind by peach blossom koh s--s-s-s-s-s-tarling
a girl with eyes of deepest red lip stick
framed by walls 
in a cold place

For Khant

Because history doesn't only repeat on ourselves. The Jewish people were assailed from many sides &many centuries because of a biblical fable. If your mind starts to race, tick the human box. Thank you think you Khant.

I don't know what day it is until I take my meds

Mind for guidance
Heart to remind mind not to be a centrifuge
soul to know
subterfuge

breathe hoarse smell

breathe horse smell

childhood

fermented

hear dog sound

fomented

whizzy frogs

by chirpy stream

schools of

rosellas

swim n dive

by loving eucaltypt

under daytime sun

in a four fold dream

foxy pitch and Pavarotti call

as birds sound

aerodynamic darts

along the tailing wind

spring anon and on

3 deer pause to capture me in their eyes.

Beneath where crows chase eagle:

Midges are trapped in spider web,

 temporary master of the sun and breeze.

A Grump Lover

Tumble no hay

A quiet song

For a grump lover

 transcendent lover

dancing in august light

as Buddha  pats my face

and mamma tells me sour sobs

can be sweet

spring 3

it took me all winter
to realise it was spring
dead leaves rot in water
bubbles near the surface
beneath abundance gums
scenting sun
bugs blink in light web
flys murmur
droplets liven shady afternoon
grass.

spring

drop i's
mothers flinch
mares start

Our Town

What would I give you my blood?

I who so loves presents in David Jones paper?

I’d give you my blood on this track

This message in a dead letter office

Beside a road to no where

In a fecund place

I’d give you 3 magic mothers

Paired by an invisible thread

Dancing with the voice and legs

Of blue cranes

For love has no voice

I’d give you running through this rain

Streams running past you

Faster than your nimble mind

Shouting

As it’s a sane thing to do

I’d give you this way

Passed the sheep who cocks his head

The pretty boy who is centurion

Of peace

And gentle wisdom

And I’d give you the three decades to spare

And the wheel chair witches

With stories of silk dresses

And white tailed spiders

I’d send your heart in a suitcase marked fragile

But not as fragile as the one you’ll love

I’d give you the pink panther,

rainbow shells that sound of Bach

and when  your legs began to creak

as you neared the top of the hill

I’d give you the breeze that calls for you with no name

And a view of the eagle

as you take a shit in the scrub

and wipe your arse with the wet green grass

as all the philosophers agree

it is good for the soul

I would give you these things

If they were mine to give.

esp

The Final Siren

The last centurion:

son of a bitch

in summer heat

still wails

on , where

 my silver

sans  blonde tinged beauty

sings lithe life songs,

runs rings out of the blue

by the old shipwreck.

Evening

I hurry home

as  the wood fairy

ungnarls   its fingers

and toes,

while breakfasting

on rainbow flavoured sunsets

through a straw.