contradictions
a land of deep and ancient history
and of little thought of tomorrow
of extraordinary generosity
and appalling selfishness
of wealth and poverty,
of wide open space and swelling sprawl
of relentless pursuits
and immense laziness
of great warmth
and astonishing pettiness
of opportunity for most
and cruelty for a few
of artistic and spiritual achievement
and hurricane-strength consumerism
of bursts of insight
and depths of denial
a land in which I lived for my first 41 years
afterstorm
rainwet streets
and drizzly air,
with hat and book
justdone fullmoon is
off hiding somewhere behind
something or other
orange lights glint
on the undulating river,
purposeless at 3 am
reverberation
of thought, half
grasped and half digested
the air is full
of promise and
decay
clanking of bottles on pavement,
finding a path around
inundated fetid intersection
the final march
down my street,
the last few offers
of tuk tuks
the satisfaction of
keys in the pocket,
and a hungry cat behind the door
daily
life clutches at the throat
a little tighter, and we wish
for yesterdays, when we
know what happens next
these are the times that put
the husk in our voices
the grit in our grind
the bit in our teeth
watching the tumbrel pass
and we struggle to find
our voices, with or without husk
wishing for yesterdays,
when we know what happens next
dream cleaning
bring in your old tattered dream
and we’ll return it to you looking like new
we’ll wash and we’ll rub and we’ll scrub
we’ll magic away the stains and the grime
we’ll mend the rips and the tears
we’ll replace the missing buttons and bows
we’ll steam and we’ll press it
we’ll make alterations, nips and tucks
so it fits again
we’ll polish the brasswork and fittings
so it shines
we’ll suffuse it with scents and leave petals in the pockets
so it’s a joy to wear
bring in your old tattered dream
and we’ll return it to you looking like new
so that it’s a joy to wear
we never close
the mushroom chronicles
O my dear small friend,
whom I am coming to resemble
(although I am yet to grow a tail)
who weaves through my days,
our daily rhythms
and rituals
entwined
maker of next-room noises,
often prudent alarm clock,
mute until hungry,
slipping between
blackpanther and snowleopard
scaled down in size but neither
pride nor slink
doorkeeper keeping close watch
on my nocturnal staggering,
a boon companion of days
in wake and in rest
window gazer
chest sitter
together we stretch
together we curl
and in the afternoon you disappear
for whom I travel
at great personal cost
down supermarket aisles
in search of food
(and coffee, which you know
signifies impending break of fast)
kneading companion,
I’ll rhyme your tail
with my belly
sombrero fallout revisited
a thought
disguised as a cat
moves elegantly through
domestic obstacle course
the colour of light
leaps dramatically,
lands deftly,
curls up in an
appropriate shape
to worship rest
through a halfopen
window
comes the proud sound
of rain for the covered
a photographic haze
develops gradually,
humming and hanging in
the cloud-darkened room,
buffeted lightly by
swirling circles,
coming to rest
like a fatigued
balloon
on the table
strewn with
guitar detritus and misshapen
accidental flattened origami
the torn story
struggles to its feet,
grunts, and
apes the feline profile
the restaurant children
the guesthouse
where I eat
is split between by
the street,
and the food and drink
comes from the other side
regular irregularities
around me
the restaurant children
learn how to walk,
and when to
cross the road
the family staff
and teach
and practice
their Englishlanguage
politeness
genetic reverberances
make it hard to tell
who is related
to who
but certain guesses
can be made
irregular regularities
at certain points in the day
a sprawling gaggle of
school uniforms cluster
on the family vehicle,
all two wheels of it,
leaving or arriving
the youngest totter,
or are ferried around
on hips,
alternating
wails and
endless giggling
existence
elastic
in its flukes and
flourishes,
its kicks and
naps and
jacks
