night rider

motored sunrise peaks

on asphalt hills

blinding panic passes

through windshield

and its many rain windows

 

tunneling through fields

and sheets of water

is not enough

so fog ghosts

knuckles turn colour

till town speeds bring relief

 

fast food neons

displace stone heritage

p plate bursts the red light gate

to a brake light 60

 

home is a toilet

and this pen

and this paper

it will soon be a bed

probably a screen

an alarm

a silent scream

to work

and repeat

Advertisements

finger lickin chickin

he said

with drink for $10

didn’t need convincing

grabbed one

and he got my card

it beeped

all smiles and well wishes

he did good

i saw the $13.60

but i saw the desperation first

mucked tiles

white out prices

untouched salads

that’s why i said nothing

it’s the best chicken around

with chips

with gravy

i basked in salt

for the last time

frost, not ice

she was beautiful still

it was just before the moment

where ice warps face

 

it had worked away

at her body

feasting on what was left

 

was loose jeans kids shirt flat curves

good morning she bubbled

and it was this sunday

 

he the later stages of vice

gripping movement manners intact

politely giving in to the rural battle

 

please wait for me darlin’

and she did this sunday

they had each other

the test of time

and so we find

on a street

in a town

on a river

a shop too small

to house the heart;

it spills out the door

in waves and salutations.

footsteps tick

at different tempos

underneath a face

swaying in the wind.


you know,

they used to build towers;

time fixed in ornate carvings

standing the test of itself.

but here we have

in all modesty,

as humble as the flower

that blooms for others

unknowing of its own beauty;

a clock that showed the world

nine to five,

one that never ceased

moving forward


as more grey mixes

with his black

and her curls

hands still fix hands

smiles still greet smiles

an independence shown

worn in the pendant

found at the bend of a chain.


the door has finally closed

to the breeze of those open

a breeze that kisses the face

that still sways;

now over conversation

and growing grandchildren.


and time told them

with the voice of a community

that rarely took the opportunity

until the shops time was done

of a value (no more evaluations!)

of respect

(where to go now when your clock is defect?)

and appreciation

for twenty four years

of dedication.

another fall, another grace

these are the times

where three nights can be measured

in as many films

where a tailored selection of seasons

pass hours

as those play out

framed within walls

directed by instinct


the drama of Autumn

striking trees

(they know this one well)

blood gurgling from the leaf

boiled by the end of Summer’s light

that last bit of sun

caught in the remaining green

bursting out as a final swing of life

falling not in death

but in grace


you see

every extra

can become the lead

if you want it

lego castles

and Mum dried sheets on castles

erected over ducts

its walls flapped as the floor roared

my tiny friends

led by an invisible hand

seeked refuge in the temporary palace

fixed faces on removable heads

tanned to the colour of the sun

talking through closed smiles

moving through rigid limbs

they gave the chance to give them life

to practice observation


preserved in buckets of dust

they will live again

accustomed to small hands

their story continues

in the direction of a nephew

and we catch eyes

unknowing to the years passed

its smile never ceased

never changed

as mine has taken so many forms

the years begin to stack like bricks

the shape contoured around teeth


how pure it was

RED LIGHT, FRIDAY NIGHT!

let the red light cast shadows

of boys on men

their eyes dance from
tits to arse
amongst the cottoned pack
of dogs they are
a stench trails
as stale as their drag produced clouds
they sneer
baring teeth at passing curves
as if they were not human
leeching on cobbled route
from one cultural bubble to the next
look hard in the windows, dogs
they may not mean much to you
but it can mean everything to them.
look hard
and see your reflection
for they are the same eyes  
that rest upon your
wife
your Mother
Your Daughter