162
a
smock of paint
here
because
can't
there be a day
just
aimlessly possum thud
at
it in paint
by
which splash intended
and
which not
?
no
bills
no
news
no
poets demand
too
much common sense
and
knowing
what
to do and why
can't
there just be bliss of is
no
argument or appetite?
as
with from radio a howl
and
all their special pleading
lost
in hours
bent
from shape
because
the thing grows crooked here
as
it is now declared
and
a breeze comes grazing
down
through the valley
can't
there be nothing to grow
but
the forest of paint?
can't
I walk in and be lost?
all
the books written till now
and
the music
the
world so far depicted
isn't
it enough?
no
there's
something next
on
a need-to-know basis
an
ache past afternoon I've come
because
the times need telling
I
only want to see
how
small can a bird actually be?
I
watch the last light out of the sky
the
lesson's to move on
"how small can a bird actually be?" So lovely. I really enjoyed this, thank you.
ReplyDeleteYes that line is the essence for me. I remember an elderly friend who lived at Mossy Point telling me she wanted to strip a sparrow to see just that... the minuteness of a bird. I like the paintings too.
ReplyDeleteThe new paintings look interesting!
ReplyDelete