Poetry
I need space To slip and trip Over obstacles small and tall So I might cut my shins Or scrape my chin Should I never stand at all? I will never be a fox nor bear Or even a shooting hare At their skin I can only stare For mine fits me so snugly (too snugly) How will I ever learn tennis!
ANOTHER DAY!
And I shall go out into that world
Hunt amongst the wild
Fend off predators
Tomorrow, I shall go out into those wild streets
To perform and fight
To make something mine
As I was designed and born to do
When one enters the great waters of life
An independent character in this savage play,
On the road or at the office,
Our instincts crouch, tense, poised-to-strike
Forever to linger on uncertainty, pacing
Back and forth
Back and forth
Tomorrow will forever be,
Another day.
Distance can provide its spaces Can open up times blank places Assume this posture or that Try on a different cap Walk a lonely mile or play with a hungry cat Drown in ones own vat of disconcertedness But space To milk the fantasy flower To build chronicles (in which to pass though the pin hole of correspondence) And thus tease inspirations tight gland with imaginations golden catalysis Steal the grape, amass a feast the fruits of distance
As a child I was often left alone in nature Finding with nature there is nothing to say A blank look is returned with blankness You are ignored and suffered Absorbed Changes to it reflect back Turn back on you Cutting deeper into it The deeper in you go Alone together you enter a dream A blank unblinking world in which The Creator becomes created Everything serving life Even death Our silent alien mother does no reflect
Cool summers nights in Bondi The wind sharp with the keen sea Pulls its self through the green tussles of the trees Who gently moan on fresh and endlessly