the first & last
wisdom
or
the light / of day
I would have
none of it
as the deepest
choice
that cannot be
ever
the lost possibility
reflected
any moment
any face
the pavement
wet
raining
tears
O you were so bright
no star
to compare
the spirit sharp
in every creation
your eyes
to see
/
& against this
the
silence & stillness
of time
down any street
or country town
thoroughfare
energy
erupts &
dissipates
to no law
or order
the dreaming
a dialogue
to accompany
the music
of a breeze
a country song (autodidactic)
yes
you can / and we do
surround
/ wrap
the point
you / me / anything / hey
w/
description / ‘explanation’
it
is the world
infinitely perceived
(finite
eyes)
and
make a stab at proposal /
a ‘statement’
(if in formal attire)
& stick it
on
the fridge
stake it in the earth garden
paint / sculpt
in the emptiness (red)
scream
these desperate measures
to hold
time
(that flighty girl
with crimson ribbons in
her hair /
all
legs)
or
space
like
where did you put that?
& if you want to step outside for a moment
where is where?
without the whole kit & kaboodle of
reference points
(& I am talking quantum here
what hope have we got?)
the nightmare madness of
running one to the other
in & out of /
you get sick to death of
dimensions
in dimensions
(the Grand hotel)
& no one I say no one
has a grip (here)
I blame Plato for the blow out
(though even he backed off from
the
green door)
or /
leave
this insanity alone
& be content
to state your case
on the street
(wet with rain)
the masked man
nods
the old street empty / the old town gone
people
steal space
the beautiful / breathless / colourless / endless
ness
of not knowing / of no cares
& the world of structures
(placed separate)
objects (on their own)
no thought (or need of
(perhaps
it is all just a config
uration
of the brain
how banal)
nevertheless
what there is
and we have to live with it
(all you lovelies
on the village green
endure)
& imagination is crippled
by
the brute
fact of
so
we move through
(whatever landscape)
& glory it up
with desire
a mathematics
out of control
=
the world
remade
in every random
act
of heart
hand
& mind
COVID 19
the problem is knowing /
how / when / & what
exactly
& then
to discover
the path
it takes
& to defeat?
does it ever vanish
& if so why?
or like a memory
recede
lie dormant?
& then
to reappear
as
& where
to what effect?
this one
an efficient
killer
like a memory
out of
the unknown
& right back
to
or maybe
not
20 /20
I
don't doubt I doubt
there you go
the paradox / contradiction
just how we are placed
how we manage /
& why it all goes wrong
unravels
& then
bound up
again
& again /
& everyone I've known
& loved
passes across my eyes /
what can you say
to ghosts
living & dead?
there is nothing
nothing
that will hold
that will last
we unravel & bind
the passing
of
time
yeah I settled down /
the
madness
lost its voice
& became
the forgotten
poem
it’s just the old home town
wherever
you are
wherever you look
the same dramas
frustrations
mistakes
the same confusion
of desire
the noise of too much
talk
the searchings
for a way forward
the road blocks
that no one can seem
to remove
the beautiful frailty
of man woman
child
& despite
the endless generation
of pretence & humbug
no answer
lasts the distance
no solution
holds
we are like figures
in
a mathematical model
of indeterminacy
uncertainty
the ground we walk on
the ground of our
despair
the ground of
hope
lost fragment
and
a dark obsession
behind the fleeting light
what is it /
that propels / configures
the directionless passion
of days & days & days
(when worlds / come & go)
held in eyes
barely touched
forgotten
today’s top headlines
•Backpacker paid just $2.50 an hour
•Is there life on Venus?
spring
I
cannot touch
the green rolling hills
they are in me
still & defined
when we reach
there is no distance
nothing to hold
that is not
already given
form & content
in the ever present
dreaming
Trump’s U.S.A.
dark
dreams
see the light of last days
the fragility
is what we protect /
or lose
to an ever present
possibility
of madness /
(24.11.20.)
to anyone
who gave me
the
time of day
to anyone
who shared
my space
to anyone
who helped me
along the way
to
those
who gave me
their love /
thank you
to anyone
who suffered
in my orbit
I wish
it had not been
so
hard words
& actions
I can only say
I
am sorry
you did not get
my best
my life (sub specie aeternitatis)
it
was nothing but an idea
out of the infinity of ideas of
nature
a moment extended
to include the world
for a briefness/
a random wandering /
out of
& back
to
the absolute
dark
no reason for
or point
to
meaning /
the spirit
searches
for itself
(from
the inside)
after the breach
when the world
was caught
jonas out of whack /
had a mind
that
was growing
angels
out of
doorways
& lucille
could
not believe /
just could not believe
the message
given
in stone
the
lost fragment
of her heart
felt
in
santa fe
billy the bygone
digs
hard ground
for
dreams /
he has no regard for /
blood
& will not desist
in the face of
howling
protestations
wild days
the art history of a bird
is beyond
the striving of physics
a magician's laugh /
exploding
the fantastical of
essence
(a black creature
running through red
a background of sand)
into the heart
the world
before the mark
of eyes
right now
it's the stillness
when
there are no words
leaping
to make
a difference
to make a mark
on the world
for a moment /
in the eternal flow
I said with a laugh
they're all mad
every one of them
I love 'em
but that's where
I start
he says
he tries to save
them
the damaged ones
I tell him
that's a mugs game
they don't need
saving
& I mention
st augustine
who said
God creates people
he knows
are going to hell
men & women
he says
he
wants to understand
them
I
say
there is no end
to understanding
yourself
let alone anyone else
& mention
sally ann
who
on the question
of understanding
women
once said
with a rye smile
'what's there
to understand?'
the trick
I said
is to learn
to live with them
& to learn
from them
how to live
joan
it was like the grid
space / time reality
lost its hold
on her /
or /
there is a fault in
the track
a wearing out of
& after 95 years
of traipsing
the boards
you can slip
into
a previous
latter
or unknown
version
of your world
& then
right back to
the
old hunting
ground
when least
expected
with a laugh
when the bell tolls
decades
in bars
the alcoholic
war zone
& the ruthlessness
of philosophic
logic
(yes strange
bed fellows)
has taught me
how to survive
the deaths
& with each
small victory
a piece of
my heart
a piece of
my better
self
has died
the grass is thinking
yellow
death / in a field of
slow dancing
hymns
for rebirth /
within
a structure
beyond
comprehension
so we segregate
the unknown
to dreaming
& that is
aboriginal
to any conception
we manufacture
to & for
a pretense
the necessary good
we are wraiths
existing
fragile
in a flicker of light
&
what is real? /
it doesn't matter
is the revelation
is the truth
of stones
&
the great
leap forward
to gods
our footprints
in the dirt
this may surprise you
spinoza was a barfly he watched from the corner table at the bottom bar he figured out the geometry of the joint & from what he could see everything is connected to everything & there is no exit (above the bar is written God Drinks Here) if approached he would say 'man is not a kingdom within a kingdom' & from where he sat a body is a mind & a mind a body just a flip of a coin in the two up game on saturday night to those souls ostracized by others he would say ‘love God but don’t expect God to love you’ & when it comes to the inevitable drunken argument 'he said / she said' (the great passion play) he knew it's only definition that will sort it out & as far as that goes the question is
'what's your poison?'
fitzroy st
the great drama
of
golden passions
the old days
the tree lined street
a private hotel
world
gone
existence
as a blind
recycling
where so much
is lost
(it doesn't
come back)
the loves
the eyes
so beautiful
& young
bodies
where God
lived
for a moment
(I
love the old town
& every heart
that beat
there)
so
there was this God
intoxicated
boy
who found
the question
(a great loss
to the carmelites)
& the world
did a double take
nothing altered
the heart of it
gone
& in each object
& each space
where God had been
the deep breath
of eternity
& the endless
fascination of
why
ah yes
these
rhythms /
I live in the flowing
of hill & rock dreaming
the spirits
of memory
my father
& my mother
gentle
appearances
to remind of
beauty
goodness
& love
the great
defiance
in the cold light
of
stars
just an observation (not to taken as truth)
there
are those
who perceive
themselves
as powerless
(though never
to admit this)
yet
present themselves
as quite
the opposite
railing against
the established
order
in whatever form
that takes
with constant
negativity
& abuse
as far as I can see
these are
the very ones
who
signed up
in the first place
to
the program
lock stock & barrel
& who then
after a time
found themselves
on the outer
for whatever
reason
wallowing in anger
disappointment
distrust
my point is
you must protect
yourself against
FAITH
in any
social or political
ideology
structure or order
real power lies
in the open mind
in
the question
in the doubt
&
the embrace
of the uncertainty
the uncertainty
we all face
I seek beyond
I seek
beyond
what I know
what I see
what I think
I am
the world
as given
I seek
beyond
the language
of my language
the
forms
I am trapped in
& struggle
against
ever
I
seek
new ways
of creating
with words
of setting to
flight
the angels
of syntax
I
seek
new worlds
of dreaming
to explore
& to delight
shorty (the remix)
so
he gets on the tram
no mask
& in another body
yes
prison hardened
I would say
dressed
clean & hip
a hotel mini bar
vodka
in hand
my old bottom bar
side
kick
shorty
doesn't
recognise me
sits behind me
& starts raving
talking in
tongues
I
had to count
it out
32 yrs since
I'd seen him
32 yrs
riding
that rail
& who wouldn't say
we both
should be dead?
seagulls thinking (on the library forecourt)
as
far as we can see
w / eyes
(& without
metaphysical
contraption)
consciousness
in the human
is broad / & deeper
than
(relative to)
other
aware & possibly
self-aware
creatures
(a gaze into
the never never
no less
&
here's a question
what do we see
when
we look?)
& instinct
the hardwire
is not
compromised
in
the knowing
& so
consciousness
as nature
aware of itself?
yes
& as to
the lay of this land?
I would think
an infinity of
eyes
in non-aware
substance
monads /
(w / apologies
to leibniz)
as against
spinoza
nature as
the all seeing /
God
the world turns
the world turns
on
a word /
(this great mystery
you will come upon)
leaving
every explanation
laughing
(lines of thought
into meta space
an endless motion
with nothing
to halt
& no destination
known)
an enemy to a friend
a friend to an enemy
a love lost
a love found
it comes down to
the scattered acts
of
living
we package up
as a life
(survival
just a desperate reach
for something)
& we manufacture
significance
importance
colour
only to bear out
the endless grey dawn
april will come
outoftheblue
x
= y
as if
the drunk screaming
fromthelibraysteps
so lockdown
& retreat
(why are you so
surprised?)
there are
bright eyes
surviving
always
the onslaught of timeless
ness
(I have no defence
I thought I was right)
rickashaying
herethere&everywhere
words
that cannot find
a home
higher education
the
intellectuals
left the stage
there was no
audience
they had nothing
to say
that anyone
was interested
in
the universities
trading
on the past
now on the ASX
became
economic
cash cows
buy your degree
here!
or if you're a little
short
of the old sponduli
enrol in
philosophy
event management
& cinema studies
more professors
than waitresses
you've got your phd
so why not
give up
the hard yakka
& become
a television presenter
at idiot central
where everybody
pushes the same line
on everything
& there's lots
of laughs
comedians
running the show
now at least
you've got
an audience
skinny girl in black tights
so
who are you?
take away
the psychological
& social contexts
that shape & influence
you
the faces eyes
words
that come to you
the histories
you inherit
the histories
you make
strip away
the biological & genetic
imperatives
that give you
a certain fixity
a character
a nature
a uniqueness
what are you?
only
an idea of self
a
focus
(nothing more
nothing less)
passionate
& searching
ever changing
& determinate
in & against
a reality in motion
eternal
& blind
green hill days
& loss
just
any motion
in space / time /
you can hang on
pretend
with memory
& you miss
the point
of being
the flow is ever to /
/ never back
lives / lovers / friends /
the world
as given
right now
the great & forever
disappearing
consciousness
(the mind)
the body
the heart
never
still
walking
down
the
rd
a
school
boy
approach
ing
as he
comes up
to
me
he nods
respect
fully
as if
he knows
I was
I am
a teacher
joan at la roche
sitting
with
my 95 yr old
aunt joan
at la roche
in
acland st
she asks me
"where
did
my parents go
after they left
foster st?'"
I say
"they passed away'"
she nods
& says
"but where did they go?"
others who know her
say
"it's dementia"
I say
"yes
but
even so –
it's a fair enough
question"
the poet’s ring
texas
1978
I get off the greyhound in austin
it's around midday
I
ask a guy 'how come everything's closed up?'
he looks at me strange & says 'it's xmas day'
I hadn't realised
lost
in texas dreaming
my fellow travellers head off in a line so I tag along
I ask 'where's everyone going'?
someone says 'sally's'
when we get there I see that 'sally's' is the local salvation army church
we all pile in
a xmas dinner is waiting for us
a traditional xmas dinner
we sit at wooden trestle tables
& everyone eats in silence
a preacher gets up on a table & lets loose
every now & then one of the travellers will look up at him & nod
it's
clear though that no one is interested in the fire & brimstone only the
food
when I leave the hall is empty
the preacher is still at it
in the evening walking the empty streets I come upon a steak house that is open
I go in & sit down
there's no one else there
a waitress appears & I order a steak & a beer
I am eating my meal when in through the door rushes this tramp with a green
rubbish bag
he comes straight over to my table & sits down right opposite me
he starts raving
a few minutes into his diatribe I realise that what I'm hearing is a rhyming
poem
it's his life's story
he is pete the pimp from chicago
this night released from the austin asylum
it is an epic street poem
the best I have ever heard
after 20 minutes or so he comes to a dead stop
I ask him if he would like something to eat
he
just nods
I order him a steak & a beer
he
eats & drinks in silence
when he finishes he reaches into the green rubbish bag
he puts his closed fist on the table
& then opens his hand
revealing a gold ring with a bright red stone
he says 'the poet's ring'
he leaves it on the table
he
picks up his bag & walks to the door
I call after him
‘who’s
ring?'
he turns & yells back
'walt'
'walt whitman'
different percepts
the
'world'
possible perceptual
contexts /
the range
inexhaustible
the parameters
ever
changing
just what you see
is all there is /
& this comes
to nothing
when looked at
from
above
no fixed point
to perspective
only the illusion
necessary
to anchor
a thought
a vision
an act
call
it matter
call it God
the next breath
the final breath
anything goes
somewhere u.s.a.
it
just keeps
running through
my head
as if
an endless eternal
rhythm
discovered /
brought to life
in a song
that cannot now
be returned to
silence
'out on the road
like a low-down joe
& the bar
where we are
is so cool
I'd like to stay'
the gordon lightfoot
ballad
a never ending
rhapsody
I’m always striving for
I
am always striving for
structure & form
in what I do
I guess it's the craving
for beauty
& the belief that
beauty is to be found in
or conjured up from
anything & everything
like a crocodile
I
move through worlds
my worlds
an ancient eye
to what has been
& what is coming
I have already seen
in the deep
in the dark
the appearance
so
the appearance
of anything
is all there is
to it
you can describe
analyse
theorise
speculate on
what it signifies
what it amounts to
what it means
& if you strip away
all pretence
the great pretence
of knowing
what you come
back to
what you end up
with
is just what
you
began
with
the unknown
an unknown
full of
possibility
in the early days
when
he was
in his late teens
& early twenties
he was always
troubled
I spent hours
dealing with
his angst
(remember angst?)
I was full of
answers
answers
that never
landed
answers
it seemed
that were never
actually
considered
now
in his late sixties
when I meet up
with him
it's the same deal
except
he is older
& sadder
&
I have seen it
again & again
people
don't listen
or if they do
it's an accident
a rarity
it's the game of
sounding boards
sounding against
sounding
boards
these days
I just stand back
& watch
the play of syntax
the chaos of meaning
the theatre of gesture
I
really don't
want to
would
rather
not
say
anything
to anyone
I
haven't
stepped out
of it all
I have just
come to prefer
beaten down
to
the elegance
of silence
the lady philosopher
(things to come)
there was no heart
to this lost dream
the abandonment
true
before the first
embrace
& every promise
of the dying stars
its history is the world
a shape of light
forever changing
like desert winds
a music of forms
a
mathematics
beyond calculation
the eternal scream
for stasis
at my window
(for townes van zandt)
it's a wild garden
like the heart
chaos trapped
in a myriad of forms
an indomitable
struggle
to the light
paul & miriam
& the love
that is
the
point
& force
of her body
the goal
& striving
of his mind
is
within
their grasp
behind
their eyes
a shadow
to
their
actions
& their lives
are just
the search
to find
a place
to silence
to resolve
to bring
to rest
the
question
the doubt
the uncertainty
that heralds
the discovery
guillaume & nadia
(the spy & his dream)
she
says
but you don't know me
& he says
& you don't know me
as he
caresses her
she says
I could die right now
the imperative
is
to
determine
that
what you
say
& what you
do
how you
act
in relation
to
yourself
& to
others
is true
right now
& to
the best self
you have
known
&
to
your
best self
going
forward
hold true
so
no point
that will hold
still /
defy
the motion
of time
the uncertainty
of light
the inexplicable
of
matter's
generation
& corruption
the
endless
depth
& breadth
of the mind's
reach
&
vision
___
the world
as it is
in
anyone's
eyes
to anyone's
touch
& in
every
imagined
possibility
the solace of inanimate objects
(for elton john)
the silence
of things
their presence
& stillness
&
there is no inside
to them
no consciousness
with its
ever moving
indeterminate
action
its anxiety
its
anguish
you are safe
with things
no pain
of passion
explored
or defied
things
cannot hold you
do
not reject
your eyes
your touch
your heart
your soul
is filled
with their
emptiness
what
you know
is what is given
just what is
presented
things reassure
things
delight
nothing
is taken
the gift
is every thing
everywhere
mural
borun / the pelican / father of the gurnaikurnai /
will never fly /
he
stands still & imposing
his eye / holds a world / lost /
his memory / the art of generations
bush dreamers / unearthing the spirit
hands in the red dust / caressing the heart /
ever the sky / common ground of the living /
&
inanimate objects /
the map of God's mind / indecipherable /
yet every road taken / every proposal put /
there is no end to the creation / within the creation /
I have no beginning /
the world activates function / awareness / & time
& the run back to oblivion /
the infinity of faces / appearing / disappearing
the places of my lives / are fragments
broken pieces / the attempt at a whole /
a floating statement / incomplete & raw
at the centre / from any perspective / no other focus
forever true / my darling jude /
deep in the structure /
the railway man & his girl dancing /
(hoff on guitar / singing the ballad of rocky hall)
anyone can add a sign / a mark / a tag / a panorama
this work / unfinished / constantly revised
if you strip it back / wipe the world away / the truth is /
a desert / blind men wandering
I will come back to this / time & time again
choice / the permanent illusion
the
ground of every vanity / & beauty
the song of songs / in a school yard / yeah
I can disengage from / the insanity of people's lives /
their troubles / their sorrows /
when the chaos intrudes / find the empty space
& yet I am one who has gone beyond the pale /
&
resurrected whole / a new face / ever emerging
(there is much to be said for madness /
if
you return to the light)
the colours flowing are a flood of souls
never at rest / ever / giving birth
no form / but every form /
& any design / a temporary
reprieve
in america
if
you have
a talent /
america
will find a way
for you /
if you don't
have a talent /
you are
forgotten /
you're
on your own
in america
the palliative care doctor
sometimes
I think of
the palliative care
doctor
who was looking after
my brother
in the last days
of
his life
she was young
in her twenties
blonde
lovely figure
stylishly
groomed
& dressed
she was in the canteen
just ahead of me
& I thanked her
for looking after bryan
knowing
before I said anything
it wouldn't be necessary
& I think she knew
straight away
this young woman
who spent her days
with death
her
grey eyes
looked right through me
without emotion
& I felt the full depth
of
her knowledge
& of her compassion
as she said to me
very
gently
look after yourself
a wall of faces collapsing
hardless
/
deep brown
infusing
the endless /
depth
why would I
say?
out of
diamond
energy
the pale
retreat
to absence
I treat everyone equally
I
treat everyone equally
I give everyone enough rope
who was I then?
I
cannot now
say
another being
& that's the truth
the great fallacy
of art is
fixture /
stability
in a frame
of mind
of place
of time /
call it the spirit
ever moving
ever changing
only dreamt
never
speared
barbara lewis
(thank you john prine)
her spirit
was her body
the world
when it was reaching
to be
before gravity
held it down
her waltz
on any street
the music of dreams
every time
I looked around
she was there
the girl in the bath
I want to remember
it all
her song to me
was manic
you're the man
you're the man
you're the man
she was
the most beautiful
girl
in town
& in the quiet
of her room
(she was devoid
of history)
she would draw
& paint
from nothing
& picasso
took a second look
& painted
the weeping woman
her hunger
hard to say
was it for life
or was it for death?
& what is the difference?
perverse & pure
her joy
I
think of her
consciousness
as an evanescence
that cannot be
stilled
she forgets
nothing
& knows I cannot
resist
she gave me
my name
& knew exactly
what I should do
to come back
to life
I was a lost soul
wreaking havoc
in her beauty
(she never hesitated
to forgive)
she only ever
loved
what can you do
with a laughing heart?
only
bathe
weightless
in its light
she was mad
& I told the doctor
& he knew
he loved her too
she changed
her name
constantly
so you never knew
who
she was
she
started in a convent
we were just kids
together
loving each other
at the abandoned
race course
another place
another time
what happened to her?
where did she go?
the
last time
that I saw her
was at
the bottom
bar
she was leaning
on
a horse head
cane
her
smiling eyes
watching me
who am I?
(& thanks to hannah reid)
if you take out
the constant creation
generation
of pretension
all the exploding
colours
of every feeling
every action
take away
the worlds
I have been
(a joyous chaos)
oh
& yes
you can say
it was always me
running through
it all
the
catch all
of identity
a
notion
(central
true)
no one can
actually
pin
down
just look at what
anyone
who has
known me
would have to say
beyond
the rolling
ever changing
film of
contingency
what remains?
what holds?
flesh & blood?
heading south
&
the question
never answered
for any longer
than a thought
who
am I?
a fleeting thing
conway twitty
a
good boy
that went
wrong /
boom boom
boom
consciousness
is inside
inside bodies
it is the inside
of nature
it
is the observer
it is not outside
it is not
the observed
therefore
an unknowable
yet experienced
dimension
of our reality
the ground
of our awareness
our knowledge
& our being
sailing away
the
velvet fragment
& her cheek
throughout time
the thrashing sea /
deep black blue
an angry mind
tell marty to retreat
desert footprints
the rainbow is falling
a painting left in the rain
the broken heart
forgives
wild heart dreaming
(a poem for jude)
/ the explosion
of life
the colours of sound
unpredictable
striking the sky
sparking on stone
eyes /
ever possessed
of wonder /
there is no relenting
nature
a slow growth
watches
no comparison
the speed
of her emotion
her joy
a tangle of energy
& the world cannot
repress
her
golden hair
flowing
her touch
setting
the spheres
to right
pure heart
pure
heart
the emptiness /
logic
has no sub
stance /
the lines
of thought
parallel
& inter
secting
(deeper than
geometry)
the world
its
dimensions
infinite
all its colours
& noise
the endless
babel /
the
interminable
action
& from the point
of view
of eternity
no more than
a dreamscape
fading
a moment
dissolving
a fleeting light /
as
if
God watches
unmoved
at the centre
.
pavement rain black
I'm
sitting
at the tram shelter
on swanston st
reading
sam shepard
motel chronicles
& hawk moon
nowhere to sit
inside
seats all roped off
for social distancing
big brother
announcements
over the p.a.
every
20 minutes
re: face masks
on the street
more
dislocated
fucked up people
than usual
wandering around
dazed
I'm imagining
faces
from my past
walking by
what would I say?
'there's
just
one way
to make that trip
to glory
trip to glory ..'
trying to place
that song
can't be sure
but I think
george jones
wintering
I am / this cold wind /
the
withering
we must face
godlessness
at every turn
(eyes
that have seen
too much pain)
the sun is back yarding
a gentle spotlight
for no reason
the shadows /
capuchin monks
bowing out
respectfully /
a clarity imperceptible
holds the moment fast
(the
world
is made of glass)
time
suspends
for this day
nature at peace
as if
there never was
a choice
the leaves of the yukka
believe with green
certainty
hegel's premise
(the dialectic stilled)
snow is falling
the eternal lesson
everything folds back
to
brightness /
the giant pine tree felled
in a storm of anger
a terrible death
for
a proud / patient
& enduring heart
no
one heard
the fall
yellow helicopter
ntnyhntnnhynhnyntytnhntnhntnhynnhnnnntnynhntnnntnnnnnnnnnnn
/
highway
through green hills
to city lights
waiting room
a piano's melodic
soft stepping
in the background
indeterminate
humans
quantum jumping
(a step to the left
a step to the right)
if you can see it all
out
of context
(that is the trick)
position
is an illusion
a point
in the permanent wave /
jude
in the corner
a perfection in blue
mask
ing
the grand disorder
we imagine we can
control / contain
who
knows?
worth a try /
outside / a tree
thrashing in the wind
anguish /
at the heart
of it all
so
the
turtle dancing
at the bottom of the sea
waving to the world
in a green symphony
I don’t have the energy
the drive / the will
for the essence
&
its distilled exposition /
I only write
short pieces / small poems / little dramas
as sacrifices (unworthy) / offerings /(tainted) / & gifts
(damaged)
to the fallen gods / buried in old photographs
to the lost souls / still roaming / the endless night
to the broken hearted / in forgotten hotel rooms
& to
the haunted dreams / of old lovers
who cannot / will not /
forget
everybody
it's
the history
in bones
you can never
shed
& character
even
a cellular
problem
blood runs
for centuries
your eyes
your mouth
the face
structure
ancient
markings /
we add to
& subtract
from /
with each thought
with each action /
the
proposition
eternal
ever
being
/ proposed
in new worlds
& time runs fast /
leaving
scattered signs
in the space
endured
1989
(for sarah who will remember)
it
was syntactical /
back in those days
the semantics
absent
or confused
passionate
desperadoes /
early morning
carousing
thrown out of
the espy
lining
up outside
the prince /
past the door
bitch
& entrance to
to the wild night
rock & roll
hard drinking /
& lost lovers
finding
lost lovers
at the party that was
never to end
generally speaking
a
line occurs
& I start with that
& see where it leads
how else can you
live?
& from that point
anything goes
real
anarchist
epistemology
it has a lot to do
with sound /
where it falls
& how it holds
life is rhythm
& it’s interruption
you can play
this game
with delight
&
most
importantly
shape
everything
we do
is shaped
thinking is
shaping
& any shape
is at heart
an indeterminacy
that is how
the world
becomes /
my disposition
is vertical /
though I am not
religious
about it /
& spacing /
is the great art
of living
lines /
& the spaces
between
where the spirit
is free
to
roam
this /
the true joy
of
being
the finding of
new ways
new configurations
in the face of
the unknown
& anguish
of course
who can defy /
shake off
the illusion of
perfection
of correctness
of rightness?
even so /
at the end
do we not settle
for beauty
or at least
make the claim?
(as
for truth
that is for those
who have not yet
delved
beyond
yea & nay)
the hidden truth
the secret
knowledge is /
pretension
if you really
must know
marcus aurelius
sometimes
the
best thing is
to come at something
from the side
from an entirely
different
perspective
from a different
point of view
out of
a different world
more
often
than not
those who go
straight at it /
get stuck
midway through
or get lost
in the foundations
or
have a slow
climb
going
nowhere
& the top
is not necessarily
what you need
to aim for /
the trick is to find
to focus on
& to pierce
the
heart
of it
friendship
is
grounded
in a moment
of connection /
(a moment
that can be
a lifetime)
give your friends
the benefit
of the doubt
friends
will come & go /
to let go
with grace
is as important
as it is
to receive
with an open heart
each friendship /
a new world
to be explored
& each new world
as fragile
as
any
that came before /
or any
that will be /
friends
can lose their way
& cease to be
do not judge
be aware /
treachery is always
a possibility
do not tolerate
bad faith
love your friends
& do what you can
to help them to be
their best
expect
the same
of them
coffee
so
I come into
the library foyer
& go to the GUIlD
coffee stand
there's this small
asian girl
with an afro hairdo
& a mask
behind the counter
she mumbles
through the mask
& I get her to repeat
sorry sir
not making coffee
yet
I just started at 2.00
(it's already 2.45)
she busies herself
wiping down benches
& organising stuff
I'm
sitting to the side
at a table reading
every
now & again
she gives me
a quick look
she settles down
to her computer
& works away
after half & hour or so
she starts
fucking around
with the coffee machine
I'm thinking
that's a good sign
gives me another look
& then head down
moves on to
some book work
& then back to
the computer
it's been over
an hour & half
other
people come up
to the counter
& they get
the same story
over
& over
again
&
I'm asking myself
what the hell
is she doing here?
finally
she makes herself
a coffee
gets out
her iPhone
& starts
ringing friends
& I'm starting to think
this little cunt's
no good
I stay quiet / quiet days
&
focus inward
which of course
means
only
to put the world
in abeyance
the inside
is nothing
ness
satre saw this
clearly
gilbert ryle too
perhaps
I say
a translucence
through which
the world
appears
& fades
a
question of
focus
the
existential
eye
is never fixed
rather /
it expands
to joy
& diminishes
to pain /
we
exist in meta
space
timeless
figments /
of no origin
& with no
goal
dark days
pretty
quickly
on this meridian
it got tribal
identity politics
they were
calling it /
even before covid /
anger & fear
in the guise of
righteousness /
& it went beyond
political
it got personal
went to
language
use
you had to be
careful
what you say
how
you say it
who
you say it
to /
the idea being
you should think
what a particular
(nebulous) group
thinks
& do what they do /
march
when they march
& only talk
to
them
no need
to think
for yourself /
or question
who you are
find your own
way
or talk to anyone
with a different
point of view
how you should
act
is already
determined
by the group
the loudest voice
the most articulate
advocate /
the trusted
news
source
it's the old story
in a new collection
fascism 2021
& in this edition
a so called
'progressive'
'WOKE'
‘left’ of centre
puritanism
is proposed
as
the new order
p1
I dream
the world /
a forgotten landscape
sufficient to itself
before necessity
& the argument for God /
our logics /
(stripped of contingency
the winds of colour)
have only beauty
to their name /
the body is the essence
mind / the physics
of sensation / no cause
no number beyond
the matrix
I am what I seem to be
or
I am not /
or I am both /
what appears
& what does not:
for others
it is straightforward
clear cut /
unless
they doubt
what they see
for me
the I
is the centre
of the debate
that just is
the argument
never
resolved
$1 pot month at the bottom bar /
everyone
was maggoted
from 11.00 am
to 11.00 pm
things went
from bad
to worse
punch ups everyday
iris
a very sensible girl
before all this
fucking mick
next to the hat stand
zac
the barman
took off his clothes
& tended the bar
naked
all day
(not a pretty sight)
I
was sitting at the bar
with matty sue & jeff
this
big bastard
joined us
uninvited
& started to mouth off
casting aspersions
on sue
matty (her boyfriend)
took it up
next thing
the retard jumps matty
& has him on the floor
his hands around
his throat
matty was turning blue
jeff & I
grabbed an arm each
& pulled his hands
off matty
the cops turned up
& took the mongrel
away /
matty
bought another
round
&
we all settled down
at the end of the night
zac
left the bar
still naked
& walked home
to sth melbourne
& apparently
the local cops
who saw him
gave him
safe passage
forget semantics
(meaning
/
can be anything)
syntax /
is what we make
is what we have /
the sign
& its languages
underwrite
the
world
the secret is
to play the piano /
with delicacy
& finesse
the beautiful dance
through
the unfinished
composition
the ever changing
masterpiece
of passion
& delight
a life
a
changing
shape
no still
a question
of
light
degree /
brilliance
or /
shadow
to
black /
& on to
depths
unchartered
/
hard truth
look
there
is no
mistake /
just a constant
state of
uncertainty /
whether
you are dealing
with
yourself
the bloke
on the next
barstool
your children /
your lover
the world
at large
the virus /
no correct
analysis
no right way
no
definite
strategy
no end game
no state of
rest
the days have gone
we
have no reprise
just the moment /
& its loss
/ as if
the world
beyond our grasp
disappearing /
& creating / itself
only
for our eyes
evancourt
she
was a nurse
mid-thirties
a lovely woman
with a pethidine
addiction
she'd been in
two or three times
& been in a bad way
on this day
she was off to see
the psychologist
when she came back
I was in the garden
having a smoke
she
came up to me
she looked stunned
she said
he said to me
'who's dick is it?
'who's
dick is it?'
she said
shaking
her head
laughing
she
left that evening
& never came back
at my best
I
am the rolling green hills
of jeetho
essential still & ancient
the quiet sunbeam
through the old pine tree
a silent light that loves
its space
the wind when it has given
all its breath
/ & leaves the world
at peace
the words
are
blood running /
the heart of every heart
we are these signs
in motion
grammars
the muscle strength
& flexibility
defining / place
& direction /
meaning /
as open as the sky
the
indeterminate
of every action
the world made /
& unmade /
with each word
written
with each word
spoken
I just sweated it out
the
loss the pain the unrelenting summer
heat the days & nights in a dark room days
& nights with dylan street legal / over &
over again
sitting down in the agora in a lost afternoon
I looked across & saw the student travel
agency & decided there & then to go to
america to find & meet jerry lee lewis
there
was nothing else left to do
it was 15 below nashville in a blanket of
snow I found the office & went up there
was a woman there I asked her if she
could tell me where I could see jerry lee
she was suspicious maybe she figured I
was a nut case or perhaps it was the
accent or my general ragged appearance
anyway she walked away from me saying
she didn't know where he was playing
next I headed back into the snow
I'm staying at the opry hotel it's late a
couple of nights latter it was a last ditch
effort I rang the office & to my surprise
a woman answered I told her I wanted
to see jerry lee in concert she said
wait a minute I could hear her shuffling
some papers & then she said he's
playing in montgomery alabama at the
coliseum on the 16th she gave me the
number of a radio station I could ring
to secure a ticket
down in the bar the barmaid asked where
ya headin' next cowboy? I told her I was
going to a jerry lee lewis concert in
montgomery alabama she said my old man
is playing at that gig he's the guitar player
for dottie west he'll get you backstage
the steel doors at the back opened up & in
walked jerry lee grey suit a cigar in one hand
a whisky glass in the other a girl on each
arm an aura of brilliance I went straight up
to him & said jerry lee I'm greg I've come
from australia just to see you he looked
surprised we shook hands he said australia
thank you I said this is for you & I gave him
a poem which he put in his coat pocket we
stood for a photograph then he & the girls
walked off
somehow or another I ended up sitting on
stage behind me sitting in chairs were the
other performers from the show dottie west
jerry reed the gatlin brothers they all stayed
to watch him
Jerry Lee Lewis In Concert
ivory hands in flesh (artist/instrument) the illusion
is separateness the atom split qualities transfusing
(Spinoza) at this point we need poetry or insanity
to reach FACT
is music transcends sound(s) hollow I know but picture
Beethoven at the terminal typing (without his mind
happy as a kid) watch the screen random mathematic
figures dancing in/out of existence the hieroglyphics
of silence
a delicacy of touch
the
only way
through
human
harshness /
the transformation
from
action / reaction
to art
ful
ness
new mexico
seen
from above
new mexico earth
an endless plane
hard black / stone
a cold awe
/ we come to this
where passion ends /
& reason pretends
mitch
he
went back to the road trains
& telling his truth
he loved her as a madonna
his heart in her care
(her heart was elsewhere)
he left for the centre
& never came back
bottom bar boy
red dirt boy
the cadence
a
rhythm to the moment
the hours / the days
to make of this existing
a work of art
the cadence / the music
the different successions
different melodies
the form / the style
turns to beauty
in your eyes
the world
at your touch
the passionate man
who
wanted
to taste
to touch
to see
everything
embraced
whole heartedly
the myth /
the illusion
of experience
/ & for him
suffering /
as true as
joy
she
moves in shades
ephemeral
girl /
a diamond's light
refracted
to the black /
in the other's gaze
the
illusion of form
dancing scarves
an empty centre
spirit
bright
or / the world
without end /
the gentlest
touch
on
guitar strings
(for billie e)
yes
if
he was here now
with the same request
you have made
my question to him
would be
what does she want?
& what do you need
to change
in yourself
to
bring that about?
if you know
what she wants
&
you can do it
then I say do it
so my question to you
is the same
what does he want?
what does he need
from you
to be happy?
can you do that for him?
if
so do it
my general point
is
this
in close relationships
it's no good asking
the other to change
if you want change
change yourself
the way you behave
the way you react
if you give the other
what they need
there is a fair chance
they will see this
& change
how
they relate to you
change
how they react to you /
if you love the other
it's worth a shot
happiness doesn't come
out of the blue
someone
has to make the move
&
that someone
can be you
if on the other hand
you decide
it
is not worth the effort
or indeed
if the effort bears no fruit
you have the answer
me & jesus
so
I
told the doctor
I went into the bottom
bar
& ordered a coke
the thing was
when I drank it
it tasted just like
beer
I asked him
what do you made of that?
he said
you're an alcoholic
you've had
an olfactory hallucination
& I'm going to prescribe
an anti-psychotic
I said ok
& as I was leaving
I
turned & said
just by the way
what do you make of
that water into wine
story?
he just eye-balled me
hard
& said
I'll see you next week
the blue days of horowitz
it
was nothing but
an outrage /
jackson said
'I have no idea why
the stars
imperceptibly
realigned'
(whatever that
can possibly mean
I for one cannot say)
out in the mohave
a green pick-up
just stopped dead
a woman in her 60's
steps out
long grey hair
'the killer rocks on'
T
shirt
khaki shorts
cowboy boots
(she
calls herself
marcie)
her arms
tattooed with /
ancient hindu
prayers
& lamentations
she
stands
facing the emptiness
leaning on
a horse head cane
in yokohama
on the third day
after the fall
three men
in a sushi bar
began speaking
about the game
in three different
languages /
(that none of them
knew)
without any
incomprehension
(I
was writing
a dissertation
on the rainbow
at the time
room 60
the gatwick
private hotel
st. kilda)
as it happened
naomi
was standing
naked
playing the flute
to
a deaf kitten
with only one eye
in the warsaw ghetto
1942
& tomorrow
was to be
the last day
to
decide
if a continuation
was favourable
I myself think
we
missed the chance /
& what luck
to keep returning
to heaven's gate
the sound is a piercing
repetition
of scratching on tin
(something's trying
to get in)
a beautiful blonde girl
with sad / intense eyes
walks through the door
followed by a clown
with bright red hair /
&
that was when it all started
(in 3/4 time)
ps
space is disappearing
'imperceptibly'
jackson
said
the mask
"we know it's all in the eyes, don't we, george?"
lawrence olivier to george c scott
© greg. t. charlton. 2024. 2025.
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