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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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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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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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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