cleaning out
my kitchen drawers,
visiting
the Wollemi pines
in the Botanic
Gardens,
chatting to the
(same?) currawong
who keeps coming in
the window,
wrestling with words
and mental figments,
plotting revolution
—
clearly I am a
lunatic,
whose only real
function
is to feed two
greedy cats!
your place in the universe
ReplyDeleteat last!
Deletehang in there, Robbie! :) That currawong is a clever bugger, plotting revolution. Is it the incontinent currawong?Quite the star, in my mind.
ReplyDeleteI thought it was me doing all the wrestling and fantasising and plotting, but it might well be the currawong! Not quite as incontinent this time, just pooed on a book cover. I think it loves me!
ReplyDelete...lol you've been blessed :)
DeleteThat is really funny, Robbie. Lovely whimsical poem, too.
ReplyDelete