from a distance
looking down through time
from a giddy height now
some sheer cliffs
some pastoral terraces where
local saints and devils frolic
from a distance it’s hard to tell them apart
looking down through time
where the dead ends are obvious now
and the path of clarity
just as tortuous
from where it can be seen
which dialogues where monologues
and vice versa
and who was standing invisible in what I thought
were private conversations
looking down through time
at receding degrees of importance
and unexpected resolutions
smiling indulgently at my shortness of sight
that wrapped around my suspension of sense
I thought you were my ancient enemy
but now I reassess, my friend, now I reassess
from a distance it’s hard to tell them apart
standing still
after the month
that has now changed
its stripes
after the even mornings and odd afternoons
not to mention the disruptive nights
after the weeks of shaving with
a blunt razor
after the the goddess of the salt water
and the goddess of the fresh water
have made their thoughts known
after the conjuring up
of an earned peacefulness
after the reminders
of the limits
that are everpresent
and oftignored
standing still ~
in the quiet ~
it’s there to be felt ~
it’s a fresh breeze ~
it’s a change in the wind ~
it’s a new year, after all
melbourne in a minor key
from a distance I can see
it was never home
it was searching, and drowning,
but it was never home
I never did put down roots
no wonder I was always leaving
the city gave me hints and clues
but I usually took the wrong ones
strapping on my armour suit, blinkers and concrete shoes
in pursuit of rent and dreary suburban consolations
now I’m retracing my steps with the gifts of distance and hindsight
following the ghosts of the life that I failed to learn to live
seething competition just below the surface
the grim cool of the salary monkeys
the big change is there are 67.3% fewer ties,
offset by 53.5% more beards or attempts thereat, and 39% more tattoos
streets and trams full of walkertalkers
echolalia of private and business conversations
can’t you wait until you get there? or am I the perverse one?
I give thanks to two Italian women that I stand next to
who speak in a language I cannot understand
it’s tiring knowing what everyone is saying all the time
I wonder what’s different/I wonder what’s the same/
I wonder what places have changed their name/yeah, for sure
unrecognisable intersections that fail to point the way to
lost haunts and long departed sanctuaries that once provided
spiritual lunchtime refuge
try our new spiced turmeric latte!
no thanks
on a positive note
I haven’t heard Hotel California even once
it’s like visiting an ex-lover – warily, many years down the track –
silently: you see, you should have taken my advice
and you wouldn’t have wound up here like this;
to their silent response: what’s wrong with where I’ve wound up?
John Brack still lives on Collins Street
sometimes bluestone, sometimes just blues
and what’s this thing about
seeing the same strangers twice in a day in different places?
some thanks, though, to the deathless blue of the sky
this morning between giant trees
[coda: slip into big major gospel chords with a choir to match]
o great spirit
help me to try
to fit less into
every day
to hurry less
to be more still
to be
more
still
o great spirit
help me to
not need to
reward myself
for such hard work
and thereby waste
the quieter times
save me from
hyperoptimal
maximised
productivity
and its
brother sins
that scar the soul
and stretch us thin
save me from
the eternal now
assist my relax
into viewing
the past, present and
future
as an intertwing spiral
amen
thoughtfulness
thoughtfulness
falls elegantly
like evening
and bolsters resilience
by slowing the surroundings
to a syrupy crawl
corrosion of the soul
peeps from undercover
in the strangest places
and so digital first aid kits
fly back and forth
we are all lashed to this pendulum
after all
whether we acknowledge it or not
the clam before the strom?
the one behind the other?
the zig or the zag?
but we are not good at asking
the right questions,
the ones that encourage
thoughtfulness
ponderables
what is the word for continually forgetting someone’s name
because you only ever see their online alias
what is the word for progressing through a book with a
growing delight at the prospect of re-reading it
what is the word for green lit by sunlight
what is the word for making stabbing guesses at an electronic word
to remove the red line underneath it
what is the word for the invocation by a shocked or surprised atheist
of the name of someone else’s Lord and saviour
what is the word for thinking it’s Thursday
when it’s Wednesday
what is the word for looking up from a certain focus and
noticing a light breeze ruffling nearby leaves and branches
what is the word for particular words becoming meaningless
through overuse
what is the word for having a thought and following it through
until you realise that you wrote it down already before
firsts and lasts
the urge to make
lists and pilgrimages
weaving between
significant moments
of lost historical time
as if plotting points
could lead to a grasp
of the incalculable
(a geographic or
geometric or
geological
measurement)
(without meaning)
of how one human life
glances against another
rubs up against another
sometimes leaving a mark
at first it may appear
to be a bruise
or a scar
sometimes
it heals into a beauty spot
soundcheck
soundcheck hour is here
our tribe gathers
in variable clumps
the constant form and reform
amidst regrets at not
seeing each other’s shows
last week
and the week before
and so on
and the beat goes on
sound check hour is here
separating the punctual
from the others
the traffic delayed and the
straight-from-workers
the pedals are unveiled
polished and primed
the drummers tinker and thud
while singers wait with
or without
patience as
guitars are strung and tuned
and basses do their bass universe thing
and guitars are tuned again
and knobs are twiddled and tweaked
and the beat goes on
soundcheck hour is here
sound personnel creep and twist
and twiddle and tweak
in buddha calm while cat herding
alternating with barked commands
we chug through anorexic facsimiles
of songs that will burst into
multicolour soon enough
just add audience
and the beat goes on
soundcheck hour is here
it starts in the light
and ends in the dark
and some go to change
and some go to eat
and some grip the bar
and the beat goes on
