The year fails

what does one
do with the limited
number
of pages left?

exercise out of them
the last
remaining positions
on the
moment?

retaliate against
an imagined set
of abstract
wrongs?

let them flutter
without punctuation
in the afternoon
breeze?


leaving them

relatively

unsullied

by the unscrupulous
seduction
of tones?
...

the pages
fall away

and then
the year
fails
too...

.:::.:::.:::.

circles
falling behind
in the late afternoon
sun

circles
awaiting a new refresh

plump circles
under the eyes
arrogantly dismissing
the days better promises

as the flashes
within the lids
are vertically challanged
edits

wind

wind
buffets the flies
as they attempt to
keep holding
patterns

above my head

above my feet

leading to to the following truism:

air disturbs
the innate language
of holding patterns

:::

These grinding wheels
Holds more that is genuine
Than I could
Ever...

worn

to the careful
observer the bald
spot's morphing
state reflected
planetary bodies
in flux

"You can" he said
(in a moment of lucid - a stacato
frankness)
"use my head to
chart a passage
through the stars"

"I get that" I said
and
as I reached over
to put a meal
across his lap
I saw the stars
of Orion open up

a bead of sweat
that was my grandfather

rolling past my departed
father

and falling gently into
an abyss
of worn linoleum

configured

the blankets
shade
briefly cancels
out
the sunlit canine

just as my eyes
adjust
the breeze fluctuates again

:an affront
of
overexposed
white dog

tightly configured
light
obscuring
finer details

blind

I dance around
darkness
sometimes

sometimes
there is
no other
choice

but I am
keeping track of
my steps
(in an elaborate
plan)
to dance my
way home

when the
light
returns

)))

"a wave of
temporality"

"washing over
the stencil"

"granting a sense
of authenticity"

"to the weary"

>

small stop
crossed out
and reapplied

a new form of creditors
warning...

...

is
now
an
end

pressing

the nervous
energy
of a good coffee

presses against
the back of
my
throat

leaving me
with
only
gurgled thoughts

Over analysed

The link is
the
isolated
princes

bringing the
audience back
to the hero's
potential

the bridge
is the red brick
stove

imparting
a sense of
belonging

/protection

when the oak branch
falls

then we
understand

the (red) brick
wall
/surrounding
/the compound
is
impenetrable

we are left standing
outside

while

inside is
warm and welcoming

and

isolated

/credits roll...

patience

the old brown
dog
is practicing
an affect
of surly
patience

again

while

the young
white dog
studies
at her
masters
feet

For

.
clarity...
past the moment
when discipline is
an issue

calling forth
from the stillness
an exaggerated current

listening for...

searching for...

something to rupture
that
/perfect
/self-contained
/teardrop

Merimula dec 2008

I glimpsed a sea eagle
And even at
A distance
It's size
Overwhelmed
Me

The chase

I found myself today
unexpectedly
chasing the red balloon

deftly avoiding
my grasp

gliding smoothly
past the parked cars
in the harsh concrete
sun

Putting the new house in order

cosy.

clean

crisp
clean
afternoon

bright

-not unwelcome-
for a change

/is

standard elements
of afternoon
blending
into white

a presence of mind
to
appreciate

/grant me this

looped traffic and dusty sunlight
off kilter perspectives

/tell me again

I glance over
surrogate
socialites
of substance

/respect situations

the blandness
of earnest expression

/what they are

05dec08

that
I would
soak myself
in
Black Tea
every
day

05/12/08

I am, like the
chairs
at awkward angles
to the sky

key ring

as I approach
(from the south)
I notice my house keys
already in hand

holding them out like
a priest with a rosary

gently rubbing the
/modernist
/abstract
key ring

that represents a canine deity

-I ask for more time
-I ask for more words
-I ask for forgiveness
(for avoiding an afternoon walk)

and,
as I clear the property line
-the threshold
to the house

I find awaiting me
a small allotment

/of time
/of found words
/and a split decision
between the two dogs
(on the topic of a walk)

-grateful

nested

this is not another word forward

two tone

in existence

in intent

trying to parse a
dead thesis

brings me to my knees

this is not a parallel structure

this is not quite that nested

dead eyes staring back at me
-perhaps you ought to consider
Deleuze again...

-fuck that-

...

this is not another way forward

but it is the space
I exist in right now

the space that I'm
-mostly-
familiar with

cordiality

remember to smile

engage the day

vigorously put out a hand
to shake...

/encrusted

/sweaty palms

/faint

/fake

wall

after coming home
there is a distance
between me
and the rest of house
-a soft wall
-a frail unfamiliarity

i place personal
objects
where I will not
recall latter

my legs and feet
dangle at awkward
angles

and the kitchen situation
I left this morning
is now a set of
shifting
abstractions