It's Philip Whalen's birthday
so I chart my mind moving.
Under the streetlight my dog
sniffs at the wondrous smells of
wild ducks doing their waddle
like Chuck Berry on stage
machine-gunning his guitar at
the front row of his persistent anger.
In the wings he shakes down
the promoter for an extra grand.
My dog's like that: always in the wings
shaking me down for extra tucker.
I chuck her a Smacko
and the duck disappears.
I spy Simon Katich in our lounge
making crepes against the clock.
Dog sniffs, wife watches TV, and I fret
as my next novel dies in the womb.
Spring is here, but she hasn't rung
my doorbell yet. Wildflowers dance
down the woodchip dogwalk path
to the river's edge, a raggedy waltz,
eyes closed in wan moonlight.
--
Andrew
'Beyond City Limits', pub. ICLL @ ECU, available at topnotch indie bookshops
- list at http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
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