Thursday, April 21, 2016

Robert Verdon & Kate McNamara, #118, Jibberjabber


dawn layers of strawberry mousse,
mosaic magpies diving behind fawn branches,
Australian ravens bulky in the understorey,
balsa planes flying upstairs from the airport

then the café, the jibberjabber of patrons,
the tale of the easterly cupping the spoon —
but remember the walk,
latent as a folded umbrella,
the green arsenic poles,
the paths from Lord of the Rings,
the sun in a dark fog,
the smoked glass morning,
the lake of glass and steel and concrete through treetops,
the mind pump-primed with glass words and vistas,
the massacre of seed pods by a

road of rust, rusty as blood,
an anthem for doomed artists,
scoria mumblings in a low gallery
of wine-soaked genteel giants,
they painted a mountain to go
with the name
but took the top off
to save money, ha ha,
jibberjabber,

spindly towers of Purple Kings against the once-dapper fence,
and the beanstalk Dad built at Pialligo,
the sunk-in-the-middle fruitcakes of Mum and that
bloody low iron stove,
the glider catapult Dad made for me which the farm kids wrecked
when to his disgust I failed to sally out and intervene

instead, I remain with wandering wonders,
lace piledrivers in a productive pile-up,
the breastfeeding Goddess in the window,
the spiny medicos touting miracle cures,
the rogue petal of market mildew whose daughter was a cod,
hardly going mad in the right place.

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