Thursday, 24 November 2022

All too perfect

 

North of town,

at Ellis Beach,

you came from behind the scrub:

the land unclenched its fists.

 

Hilarious.

We’d bid farewell by Jourama Falls.

What odds now had us on

each other’s paths again?

Oh song within song…

Oh rest within rest…

 

Fallen palms along the sand

on which passersby

walked the planks

to the One True Ocean…

 

All too perfect

like the start of a life.

 

Every day a sunrise…

Every day a sunset…

Sometimes they come together

and the dark doesn’t change to the light

but the life…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tuesday, 22 November 2022

chirp chirp

 

Three fledglings in our yard

and they’re learning to fly
and they’re chirping for food.

It breaks my heart.
I’m just too sensitive.

chirp chirp

chirp

chirp chirp

It shouldn’t hurt this much.
It shouldn’t hurt at all.
They’re being fed, I presume.

Perhaps I sense
the abandoned child
in memory
in fledglings hanging on.

More likely it’s something else
—something deeper
than pop psychology.

chirp chirp

It’s something to do
with the beauty and horror
of everything,
too much for words alone
beyond

chirp chirp
 
 
 
 
 

 

Sunday, 20 November 2022

Here's a poem

for Saturday night.

 

May all the boys

get what they like.

 

May all the girls

fulfill their dreams.

 

May each enjoy

each other’s schemes.






Love it

 

We transcend the limits of sight

by painting,

 

and limits of words

by poetry.

 

We lift ourselves to God

by dying to self,

 

and transcend the darkness

by loving it.






Thursday, 17 November 2022

Everything

 

There was Jordan

at first

—the original game of chess;

the template,

the moves made.

 

Oh Jordan…

Were you lifetimes ago?

We rendezvoused at family homes.

We talked of having kids.

We were

the kids

on backyard trampolines

somewhere overseas.

Forever young

somewhere still.

 

And then

there was Mel.

My gorgeous Mel.

We crossed the Rubicon to adulthood

and I to sin.

Mel of the Garden,

I of the fruit.

If God could not forgive,

I know that you would still forgive.

Mel: the one who saw a prince

in the eyes of a toad.

Mel, with whom I ate at home

and was at peace.

 

And then

 

Diana.

My mountaintop.

My lightning.

My pain and grace.

My Magdalene.

Diana, Diana…

All in the name

if all could know

what we once knew.

What now, queen? What now?

The line crossed.

The ribbon snapped.

The medals stored.

The crowd went home, sweet angel.

So did we

without each other.

The churches, the flesh,

the us against the lie.

The glory.

The aftermath.

To rejoice or despair,

my queen?

 

The stage is set.

We play our part.

I rise from a mattress on the floor

and draw the curtains.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday, 31 October 2022

Neuralink

 

Anyone holiday still

besides our cameras?

 

Do our spirits come along

or just the hands

that hold the lens?