Sunday, August 23, 2009

Ettrick

Ettrick

Fourty
No perhaps fifty
Opaque boxes
Uplit by country street bulbs
And the moon
Dimming in the mist
Waiting for the apples to come
But they didn’t this year
Not even when they were ready to fall
Not enough people to pick them
As the peace song said

Just down the road
Light dim on the speights sign
Jacks still waiting at the pub
Local cop waiting for him on the corner
Of coal creek road
He doesn’t care what happens to him or the ute
Hes waiting
For his mates
Who were not ready to fall
Lying in the weight of fourty
No perhaps fifty
thousand opaque boxes
In flanders fields

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chasing victory (for luka)

Chasing Victory

i guess its just us
me and you
and one thousand black spirits
circling against the blue
black backed ghosts
rising to the sky
like the souls of
black torn bodies
wrecked by the sea
once chasing victory

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Wednesday, August 19, 2009

growing up with (fitzherbet) bridge

Growing up with (fitzherbet) bridge

We drive away in the blue valiant
West to east
Fresh taste of lemon on my tongue
Out the back seat window
The arches of the bridge

I pull the sticking blue door at the side of the house
Binoculars in hand
Anticipating everything
Cross the avenue at the end of the street
Pay at the gate
Sponsored by State

I cycle away
Uniform still on
Fresh taste of lemon on my tongue
Into the wind
Under a grey sky
Back to boys high

She is not there
I let myself in
Make toast drink tea
Ring a girlfriend to see
Place my hand on the wooden fence to leave the key

I pedal over the bridge
Wide and strong
Wondering what’s in the fridge
I am just having a four
Let yourself out the back door
Fresh taste of lemon on my tongue

Trumps on the table
Three times a week
East meets west
Apparently Canterbury is the best
I fix a washer to stop a leak

Fresh taste of lemon on my tongue
The bridge over the river
Bridge on the table
Cricket over the road
Joker in the hallway
A century an amazing century
Today

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