Thursday, January 17, 2019

Kit Kelen #1114 - secret from myself


1114
secret from myself

those images spun into mind
out of the nowhere we were
            …unbidden

from mind, where else (?)
and other images beget

 a certain corner come around

street where the trams
wound down that hill

fresh white splintery paint of a rail
the mother hand to hold
the uncle shoulders up

harbour in its far pale light
everything green and dry
say Spring!
(the word as yet unknown)
and all the pipesmoke smell of it

your monkey face
an age of

why so much a foreign suburb?
secret from…

once in a Cold War
I grew up with
someone said Moscow
when they meant Mosman

I was born in Cremorne
the library steps had that white line edge
think the rabbits
think the lawn
consider a cubby of tin
once we must have leant to it
an burnt my bum on winter
come too close

then certain substances
and let’s say childhood up in smoke

so love
and you have never left me

let’s say time came up to trick
so suddenly we’re there
and counting

thing means another
so words are my art
anathema
iconoclast

I find out all about religion
it’s wanting
full of fear

I’m judged
and swagger, sin decked
oceans of

amounting
the number I climbed up to
how I could not reach so fell

caught in the act!

and stars named after
the islands untold yet

that policeman called me Spike
patted me on the head

not much reason why anything sticks
but further back more likely

remember the day I cut my hair
bounced in the shower
then I was Curly
no one knew me then

like coming out of a magic box

it’s never the words come back
always my job to find them

I keep your cards and pictures
secret from myself
and am, and will be, was

not the images
but it comes, why, how (?)
whose bidding am I at?

it’s secret
the bruises I could never see
scars one can’t account
where the ‘we’ is parenthetic

hush season other than I’m in
things the blood knows
or this my insect mind

how I healed
and came to be

and hide myself
where I lie under
so to sing

mysterious deeps
to dream I am

my true past in the crime
these unknown ancestors
and how it was I got out of the tribe

forever secret
so I am
nor can the day be known

me at the end of the house
you through a window
imagine a view through

future portentous
an afterlife

lives before
my secret soul
I don’t believe a word of it

lust under the carpet swept

the ones addicted to me
like karma I deserve

a first grey hair remembered yet

and I, best kept of all

this every next beat
of the all-I-am

who knows where next

into the fold
beyond the pale

live in the effects
of the long since chosen

once as real

a guess as good as yours

blank hearts
and come to me
for hope
I don’t know
what I’ll think

but there I am already
no way of getting home

forget the plot
and how it goes
went, will

so as to be
living on now
so as to come in  

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