well, here's a relatively new poem. i'm currently going through a stage in
which i can't figure out if i've 'finished' a piece, or whether it needs
more revision. at my age i think i'm more keen to write as many pieces as
possible rather than edit my poems into submission. right now i'm infatuated
with Crane, John A. Scott, Gig Ryan, and just coming to terms with Rimbaud.
cheers
Will
Sequence
1.
It was original to sit on the train
& tour backyards, the wind pressing marsh
to have a haircut.
Re-instated by express unguent
I shook my head & went to university.
2.
New surrounds & I am detached as shadow,
peering at sky-scraper descant.
A walkman is shade
& as talkback takes umbrage
I am tempted to call,
nudge the dormant switchboard.
We tape ourselves on air
because novelty is beyond our jurisdiction.
Media waits for alms.
3.
Waking at a friend’s house at 1,
it’s like I’ve walked through anaesthetic.
A self-help book is anchorite to the shelf,
& a tree’s strophe plays through a window.
A mystery flight requires disorientation
but waking is libertine as slate.
To hear your recitation over breakfast got me thinking.
If golf pants are a good Christmas gift
or you saw a Rolls in the course car park,
why hint that I become your gym partner?
I remember my first rainy morning beside a girl
& it is the happy langour I can fold.
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