I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
......
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
......
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just 'on spec', addressed as follows, 'Clancy, of The Overflow'.
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
'Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are.'
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
......
The people upstairs all practise ballet
Their living room is a bowling alley
Their bedroom is full of conducted tours.
Their radio is louder than yours,
They celebrate week-ends all the week.
When they take a shower, your ceilings leak.
They try to get their parties to mix
By supplying their guests with Pogo sticks,
And when their fun at last abates,
They go to the bathroom on roller skates.
......
AMONGST THE HIGHLY PLACED
It is considered low to talk about food.
The fact is: they have
Already eaten.
The lowly must leave this earth
Without having tasted
Any good meat.
For wondering where they come from and
......
Når musikken blir kjedelig
når jeg ikke har styrke til
magisk uttrykk
vil himmelen bryte opp
månen vil bli hjemløs
......
Mary Fletcher was prime minister in olde England, like fondest memory,
Of days when the twilight stood still, with silver moon, floating on sea.
Mary Fletcher was capable and caring, to the country's great benefit;
Like spring rains of green benevolence, trailing the fragrant evidence.
Andrew was Mary's loving husband. Their lives were so happy together!
Like allurng, violet future, that recalls moments in lush, green heather.
Scarlet summer was all in a fever, as faceted friends called, flustered;
......
From obscurity come the strangers
Fading away, like old dangers.
Walking the street of flowers
more people pass every hour
A few are pleasantry exchangers.
Near my porch, robin sings
Beautiful music for summer swing!
Red berries in a bowl
Kelly green butterfles, on patrol
......
Coins aren't my favorite thing
They are either shiny and bright
Or dull and dirty
But I know better
The shiniest ones and most bright
Turn out to be dirty and dull on the flip side
Dirty and dull
No use for something that isn't pretty
They give quite the impression
Until you realize all their flaws and imperfections
......
in this molten hollow, crusted with land
overdue says the axis, manic spinning
round and about the magic gravity bond
there was barely a doubt in the eyes of the abyss
it gazes back when the word is said
quick, quick, the moment seeping quick
brushing—in bristles soft—our mystic time
each moment passing by, the fabric
layer stretching out into a platter: shine
presented on the altar of conscience
......