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Thursday 9 August 2012

For M....

We spoke of trips, all kinds
of companions on our journeys
and journeys too,
we stop of trips
about property rights
of the intellectual kind,
of trees and garbage too
places that were immediate
people too,
and we spoke
over popcorn and unrepeatable menus
about silly things
like fear
and laughter
and we laughed
and all that time
she read me
through words and ink
on A-4 paper
and conversation drop;
I don’t remember
what was then unforgettable
and I remember now
what was then unnoticed
and I say to myself
like Pound and others
‘Time saw this,
that’s enough’.

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Wednesday 8 August 2012

Fences and walls

Posts driven into earth breathtaking interval stops
neat brick-row broken glass topped
or barbed
or lanterned for aesthetics
their eye-less stares forbid
and invites;
so I went
I looked
and I report.

Weed-seeds fly over
and fall on neighbor,
soil moves in rain-rush
and moves on
from his to mine
to his or her downhill,
real estate is dusted
and wind-sent from door to door
to settle on floor, table and window-sill
swept out duly
and left without owner-tag,
bird-picked seeds fall
gardens erupt
in thora, kiri-henda batu, penela
leafy greened truths
mock boundaries
the surveyor’s lines
dissolve territorial fascination
and homelands move around
like bucks and water.

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Tuesday 7 August 2012

A story of eyes

They say eyes are for reading so I eye-gaze and un-clutter
ear from word
run through word-maze
in an eye-seek insanity
like I always have
until someone touched
seeing eye and unseeing eye
walked past written word
picked up the lost silences
and then the world
in a monumental shift
and crazy juxtaposition
turned everything into eye
a million witnesses
that read and heard and said
dissected and pronounced
this and that
and I broke
into laughter
laughed and laughed and laughed
and the world laughed back
with me
at me,
it matters not
for this world is mirth-made
so mirth-made
that it can’t stop the tears.

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Monday 6 August 2012

Home Days

And then there are home-days when little girls play and teach:
‘The First Peoples of North America’
is a card game
where I learn the dimensions
of ignorance;
there’s ‘have you heard this song?’
there’s ‘I’m done eating’
when she has not,
there’s a sudden shower
and no clothes to take in,
a dog that follows
from room to room to garden
in soft pawed accompaniment
and the hours move
by way of light-angle
and the relay of creature sound
birds, dogs and monkeys,
rats too, now and then. 
Home-days are still days
of the world moving
sun signs and must-do things
and of little girls playing
and I playing along. 

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