Thursday, 22 November 2007

Number 51

I'm just a muse
just a kings cross muse
blanketed between worlds
stretching through eons
riding the tidals
tripping over myself
throwing in the towel
and taking up
a real fight
skinny light surrounds me
cornerstones come
and go
text messages rain from my mouth
perennial as they are
clouds gather curiously
as I hum an airy tune
a sequence
a break
a crack
bits of stars
that I once held in my pocket
fall helplessly home
its apathy well trodden
a patterned existence
a courtroom drama
a moment to reflect
I'm just a muse
just a kings cross muse.

Friday, 16 November 2007

buffalo brains don't see it comin'

The real estate guy
with his accurate watch
and an eye for an angle
paces the laneway
in his infinite wisdom.

Drinking it all in.

Like a buffalo on kakadu bank.

but what's underneath
the ripple concentric.....

a masked opportunity?
a new fallen leaf?

There's a swampy miasma
hangs over this town.

Two hundred a barrel
black slimy shock
creeps up from behind
like an old giant croc.

Friday, 9 November 2007

Whirling Ghost of the Cross

Your pendant reflects a ghost
that flirts about this room
my half moon gaze
has long become routine....

And look!
This steady hand can prove it.

Whispy haleys' comet lace
in tarantella dance
she bounds
from bites upon her neck.
Her spectral beauty
spins and spins for me.

I know it's true.
I've seen it done.
Her dervishesque excitement
leaves me panting.

And yes .....
The cutlery and the switches
are unmoved.
And curtains steady in their drop
except for harbour breezes,
keeps bristles on our necks
as languid
as the night.

and still ....
you look upon me strangely
as if I'm cursed
or worse ....
a stinging tongue
that fails to rest

Then turn your reddened eyes this way
she dances near us now
and trust my heart
won't fall for such a spirit.
For earth be earth's
and moon be moon's.

And look!
This steady hand can prove it.