12 May 2024
27 November 2024
x am
the moon slips away from earth
two finger widths a year
but right now
the scent of grevillea
floats in an air askance
its eloquence stirs
my recalcitrant blood into a swell a
joy of inconvenience
beyond expedition, my
only cause being
the illusion of a cogent life
the illogic of a dawn
sequestered now and when
the sound of coffee through a window
tries to feel like traffic lights
and here you are your nose
glued to your morning aroma
marvellous in its fecundity
need help? an autocue pops up
and then you twig, you’re
meant neither to be here
nor now
it’s all just chance
and this time through you half
expect to fail again
I mean fall
and fall you will in fact
right now you’re
falling through the full of time –
oceans
of it slosh their symphonies
around you
yes, their symphonies
but you’re not fooled
all they are is sound
your ears recoil, dust blooms
constellations
of creatures and their stories
adapt to the day the night the year
entirely
at your disposal
your mind clear
as a loch in spring
but I don’t mean clear I
mean reflective
your last chance
to see yourself before
you drop through
to that other lake
the irony
of it being
whose life is this on earth
whose tenderness
whose turn?