It’s my observation
in our consumer driven world
that the one thing we want
can’t be bought
and that’s time.

Now when we were kids
it seemed there was oceans of it
it was all about filling in ‘time’
finding ways
to alleviate the boredom
games of cricket or football
any sort of game
to fill in the time
while our parents worked away
to provide enough money
to put food on the table
and pay for an education
it was just slipping away
and we didn’t know it

They knew it but we didn’t
the age old problem
that as you get older
it seems to go faster
and faster
until you look over your shoulder
to see yourself approaching
like a ghost
applying subtle pressure
to do things faster and faster
because time’s getting shorter and shorter

So now it’s all about allocation
making sure each moment
is measured for an outcome
it’s the last known natural resource
it’s the thing that you can’t waste
the thing you can’t call back again
so make each moment count
tick it off
tick the boxes
that proves that you’ve done the most
to advance your cause
don’t waste this,
don’t waste this time

If only it were balanced out somewhat
when we’ve got all the knowledge
at the end of our years
if only it could be spread thickly and melt
like butter on warm toast
that’s how time should be used

so yes, you can’t ‘t buy time
you can buy other people’s time[that's work]
you can only make time
by getting up early or going to bed late
making scarificies
but you can’t buy time
if someone could
they’d be a thrillionaire

As I’m gliding down Chapel Street
on smooth layers of ashphalt
past beggars looking vacant
and two dollar shops looking vibrant
past the factory seconds place
where  a bloke is having trouble
removing his security screen
As I’m gliding
each shop I pass
that has  a door of sliding glass that opens beside me
revealing a sliver
another layer of consumption
except for the banks of course
because they’re only interested in taking
not giving
how much power am I consuming
by making these doors close and open
it’s just another another nail in the coffin

Plasma TV box

Two blokes are deconstructing a box
for a plasma TV
they’re just not big enough really
those boxes
As well as consuming half the grid
these things are big and bulky and ugly
it’s another sin of consumerism
another nail in the coffin
and another belch of greenhouse gas
everytime the button is pushed

There’s a girl out the front of a flat
around twenty something
just hanging there
waiting for something to happen
have here expectations been met
is her life everything she imagined
has she evr really been challenged?
By her dressed down manner
and her general demeanour
I’d say things are not quite working out the way
she hoped

she knows that anybody can be famous
and almost everybody these days expects to be famous
whether they can sing or dance or not
but she doesn’t think it takes work
hard work
and talent
and capacity
and ability
you cannot be everything you want
nor will never be
if you haven’t got the basics
so what about some realistic expectations
not the ‘you can be whatever you want’
because some things are not possible
if you sing out of tune
no degree of training will make you sing in tune
if you can’t tap your feet in time
you’ll never be on dancing with the stars
accept your lot
work with what you’ve got
to make it the best it can be
and maybe
maybe
something might happen.

Bus stop

cold metal seat
biting my arse
air temperature
cold enough to scare monkeys made of brass
eyes are radars
hunting down the road
looking for those green luminous digits
that herald the arrival
of the saviour
waiting for a sign of the sign
that the bus is about to arrive

Gym Hall

A gym hall filled with light and hoops
and polished boards
and yellow lines
and during the day
the sound of voices echoing round
like the thundering hooves of wild horses.

A disused shop
paint peels off of tiles
that have been painted over
Newspapers cover the windows
yesterdays news covering
up the history of failure

Pastries

beguiling pastries
glossy shells
covering twisted dough
shining fruits
in red and yellow
seem to glow
with the innocence of sunshine

Kinsgwood

Looking inside a worn out Kingswood wagon
falling apart at the wheel arches
trim dripping down
Inside the ash tray overflows with cigarette butts
and then an introduced ashtray
in marble glass also overflows
no concept of emptying here
no responsibility

Skywriter

Kill Jum…… something
the plane looping in the sky
streams of cloudy crystals
make letters
spelling out some message
the writer needs to do a Double U
but he flies down a hundred feet
too low
it seems to separate out
what does it look like up there?
Child’s party

aqua yellow and purple cups
cordial on the floor
fairy bread
and chocolate on the floor
Newhaven squadron

Yachts lined up
like fat beached dolphins
with white underbellys
Wind whistles through the stays
walking the breakwater
evening gulls are disturbed
from aerodynamic berths
they hang easy in the blustery gusts
body surfing on the wind
disappearing from view
laughing on the wind
as the sun crouches down and blinks
the bitter cold starts to cut through clothing

A couple of gay boys emerge from a hummer
perfect black boots
black pants
On a mission
to get some sort of
accoutrement
from a specialist store
just near where I’m sitting
five minutes they’re gone
then they swan back
and join the jolting traffic

Road works and beautifications
causing mayhem
on the corner of the Esplanade and Fitzroy
orange and white barriers
that are filled with water
to make them heavier
impeding traffic
making it difficult
to cross the road
Everything seems  to be in a permanent state
of upgrading
no sooner finished one part
before the next project starts emanating
impeding the flow

this one’s
pre formed concrete slabs
pincering the corner
like a chicane in a  formula one race
might stop some sort of pace
the cars might be considering
as they are rounding the corner

Ice cream

double header
Chocolate
and toffee
it starts to drip as soon as it’s given me
chocolate coats the roof of my mouth
with a layer of cold
fingers begin to get sticky
as the ice cream sheds tears

Luna park

digeridoo out front
big mouth
teeth and eyes
orange things
turn styles not working
duff duff music in the background
generators a carousel
horses on golden blades
chariots carry children
the roller coaster whooshing past
some screams and clattering
stomach lurches just watching

dodgem cars

rumbling away
caught in the middle
bash and crash
out of control
like us all
is life a game of dodgem cars

a pirate boat
a pendulum with scissor hands
losing momentum
A high speed Ferris wheel

Christmas tree lights
flash in the window
of a sushi emporium
California rolls
dressed in bands of seaweed
terriyaki chicken
cooked tuna
raw salmon
2.40 a go

the rice is sticky
the soy sauce
salty
there’s humming in the background
from a drinks machine
I’m tearing at the skin
with my gnashers
hot wasabi tingles
the rice flies in my mouth like kicked footballs
the tuna becomes a  paste
salty is all I taste

a TV plays in the background
competing with the sound
of pots and pans

Noodle world

A mixture of vegetables and sea food
toss in the air
cascading everywhere
but land back in the wok
he scrapes and grinds
rocking it again
the mixture flies
while the flame never dies
it’s on all the time
exhaust fans
suck out the life
until he’s done what is ordered
shoveled into a square box
that stands patient
as a Chinese guard from the Ming Dynasty

Eat at Joes

A cappucino machine hisses
steaming the water for my tea
English breakfast
the standard question
whenever you order this sort of thing
sometimes I trip them up
by saying Earl grey
or Lap -Sang Su Chong
but mostly it’s English Breakfast
Twinings
or some company who’ve made their
label look like theirs

Bacon is sizzling and crackling on the grill
the air conditioning makes the air still
but the roaring fans of the exhaust
beat the silence into submission
I wait and read the weekly specials
written in failing letters
in pasty chalk
today’s breakfast
bacon, eggs
toast and tea
the special
at Nine Fifty
suits me

He’s Greek is Joe
hard to hide it
I wonder how they make a living on this street
where so many others fail
it’s the exorbitant rents
I only know it through my hairdresser Joe
which happens to be the name
of the owner of this establishment
or that’s its name any way

Now Joe- the hairdresser
is an interesting character
seems to have sex on the brain
in  a reptilian way
but he’s not much younger than me
at about 40 he still sees
woman prancing by as something to ogle
and comment on
those days for me are long gone
‘though I still notice
but know this
those days are long gone
I wonder if Joe has children….
funny, never asked him

Outside of Joes [ the cafe]
on the footpath I have noticed ‘
on several occasions
the work of an artisan
set perfectly in the concrete
done just before it’s had time to set
the outline of an erect penis
the artists work preserved for aeons

I’m waiting for my chicken tender-loins
looking out over Fawkner park
the trees seem to be having an afternoon nap
a lunchtime class in kick boxing is under way
merciless pounding
upward thrusting
sexual energy being released.
Is it a bunch of workmates
working out their frustrations over the boss
is he the target in the middle of the gloves
anyway

Concrete Cutters sit in a swirl of smoke
in the outdoor area
right behind me
occasional tufts of nicotine drift by
I keep up my mantra to take temptation away
there’s no consideration
in their exhalation
for other people who are eating

He’s a Larr-i-kin
a funny bugger
he’s talking about this machine
a big one – from what I can make out.
It cuts holes in concrete
probably like those things you see
when they’re fixing up a street
all hissing pipes and water
and steam
it can’t be his
he must just be one of the employees
because he keeps mouthin’ off
’bout this bloke who runs the thing
for example;

He was meant to meet him
at some job the other day at six a.m
he got there, hung around an hour went back home
turned up again at nine
just as the ‘boss’ was making his presence known
He asked the boss ‘where were you’?
‘whaddya mean’ was the reply
you told me to be here at six
oh’ yeah
I forgot ,….
DICKHEAD he says

So his current predicament revolves around blades
it seems there’s a few types
concrete,brick, tar, masonite
you name it there’s one for every occasion
the job he’s doing right now
or this morning
he starts sawing through the greyness
and has to exert a heap of additional pressure
to get the result
he would normally get

He stops the machine
looks at the giant silver ring –
BRICK emblazoned on the side
he calls the boss to say you’ve given me the wrong blade
his repsonse- ‘TURN IT ROUND’
Bloody hell says the bloke “I already tried”.
You gotta get me the right sort of blade
or this will take 5 weeks DICKHEAD –
or words to that effect.
He boasts to his lunch mate that he often calls the boss that
‘DICKHEAD’
and still has a job

The other smoking companion
laughs at appropriate moments
and tells his own story of cutting through a wall
standing on scaffolding-
probably without a safety harness on
revealing how the grinder jumps
when you hit the reinforced steel
inside the wall
sounds scarey
all those teeth
whirring away
just one buck cut cut you into pieces
they erupt from the table suddenly
and twitter their way
back to the adventure of building…

The shining

When things are wet they shine
roads shine
leaves shine
grass shines
these otherwise dull things
take on life

Flutes

Flutes of flowers
on a Eucalyptus tree
muted yellow tubes
with thin fingers
ready to catch pollen
and bees
ready to mate

Sun Shower

Just a hint of rain
not really enough to stop me continuing
but enough to make me notice
and maybe take a moments shelter
underneath a historic Elm
watching it drift down
it’s not like it’s falling vertical
but being carried on drfiting winds
almost going sideways
lit up by the sun’s rays
that leak through a canopy
of naked winter branches

Squadron

Trio of aircraft
flying past
Harvards
I don’t get the fascination
such a low lumbering elephant in the air
why do people fly them?
Worse than a Dakota
in my opinion
trying to think why they might be doing a fly-by
today
4th of July – eleven A.M.
not like we celebrate independence day or anything
the radial motors chuggle along
their sub harmonic frequencies
bounce off the glassed facade of the hospital
and hit my rib cage like a kick drum.
What was it like during world war 2?
when those sounds might have meant
death
or injury
loss of home and family
the motors of death
whirring away
through history

Reading Journeys

Sitting at the front,
a double decker
in a bubble curved round like sixties furniture
ducking my head as the branches hit the windscreen

Reading bus station
a cathedral with a choir of deisel engines
humming their song of journey
and miles
and passengers

walkways and steps in rough concrete
leading up to the shopping centre
Marks and Sparks
Tescos or its equivalent
being dragged around
feeling boredom
holding on until the ‘treat’
the toyshop
rows of model aircraft
in colourful boxes
waiting to be bought and built

cups of tea in the Marks and Sparks cafe
or was it Woolworths
eggy bread, pastries

3.20 Train journey

Behind me two lads
private school I reckon
recognise each other and start chattin’
the conversation is a little halted
they don’t know each other too well
might have played football
the conversation revolves around football
“who you playin’ for”
“Are ya on your way to trainin”
it runs out of puff – the conversation
then a new question
“Yyou got a girlfriend?”
“No too much trouble”
“I got a few girls on the go,
but nothing serious though”
‘too much trouble’ he says,
“what about you?”
“No, not bothering”

An Indian girl
deep South I suspect
her skin
chocolatey black but her eyes are blacker
the cliched’ cinder
in each one
but she radiates a beauty
and knowing
attractive to engage in

The rock star wannabe
hair spiked in crazy waves
tall
thin
gangly
with a leather jacket
and a mobile
attached like a limpet mine
to his ear
setting up the next deal
he knows about style
and fashion
and what matters
could he give me some lessons?
might be a bit too old for that

Down the carriage is a face and eyes
I’ve seen in a hundred posters and films
he’s not the famous one
but looks just like him
with blonde curls
and straight ahead eyes
he’s talking to a girl
just friends I think
but then at Richmond
his doppleganger gets on
it’s almost like looking at television
when it looks at itself
a reflection
is appearing down the carriage

Part of me thinks I should buy the Taylor Swift CD
to assess the current level of production
to see how to make my drums sound ‘right’
and get those guitars real chunky
I resolve to go to J.B. Hi Fi
that afternoon.

As I walk into Collins Place
there’s a ‘discount CD store’
selling the very record I want
for fifteen dollars
is this a coincidence?
there’s also other ‘classics’
James Taylor’s greatest hits
E.L.O
Billy Joel
Linda Rhondstadt
are these all parallel imports?
How can they sell them cheap?
I buy a heap
hmmmm.

I pass the shoe repair man
a key making machine is grinding
and behind his right ear
hang pairs of shoes
their faces
their soles
pointing outwards
they shine
shiny soles
I wonder what a shiny SOUL would look like?
untainted
holy
pure.

On the Street

A woman looking very forward
knowing where she’s going
running the footpath
like a teflon bullet
shooting through the crowds

A drummer on the corner
Elizabeth and Flinders
making use
of garbage can lids
ice cream containers
anything he can whack
to produce a noise

Sunday July 12

Sunday morning
chilly
the air has a bushy smell
vegetation
the whole suburb seems sleepy
like a country town

I pass an old Scwheppes sign
in pale orange
someone’s stuck them on an old outhouse
there’s also a topper ice cream advert
in light blue

Housing commission buildings
in the midst of Prahran
now in the middle of gentrification
what if-
I I had no money
couldn’t work
my current rental ran out
and that was my only option?

There’s a fellow with a box
it’s resting on the pavement
I think about helping
after I’ve gone past
he looks kind of lost
might have an intellectual disability
am I being uncaring
callous
just waking by
or is it not in me ‘naturally’

A girl on a bike brushes by
must have had the same thought as me
retraces her tracks
asks him if he needs help
but is refused
maybe I would have got the same answer
maybe he likes it that way
what does it say about
‘don’t get involved’?

OLD Prahran

Around Hawksburn
it feels like I’m in a country town
a lot of old buildings
in orangey brick
big blocks of land
fancy windows
some two story places
with elaborate wrought iron fences
pointy elongated pyramids on top
like witches hats with the top cut off
an old church
grand buildings
these give way to modern blocks of flats
along Cromwell road
but there’s a few old places
crumbling into ruin
Kenjil
Bruthen
names embossed in fading stone
gutters running down
front yards in disrepair
probably a student rental
probably worth a million dollars each
land value Only
or maybe they’re heritage listed

Dots of light
mushrooms
glowing in the dark
cat’s eyes and white lines
Red and white dots as I round a corner
Hazy yellow lights on lamposts
create star patterns on the windshield

COLLINS PLACE

a cathedral of modernity
an arching dome of light above me
sparrows come and sit
as I sip on English breakfast tea
they fly down from criss-cross lattices
and strange architectural squares
that must serve some purpose
suspended in the sky
like a PA stack at a rock concert

Businessmen
purvey papers
while supping down
cappucinos
feigning disinterest while the world crumbles
into crumbs on the floor at their feet

On Collins Street

the fancy shops carry on business as usual
Louis Vitton and Prada
have men at the door
ready to welcome you in
the Prada store
braided with a layer of burnished brass
polished so fine it’s almost a mirror
everything is high class
the bags in the window
the designer wear
everything is perfect in there
and they must have their own
power station out the back
for the store seems to glow brighter than anything else
in the entire street
it’s a small sun that seems to radiate
something you want to hold you hand up to
and warm against
on these mid-winter afternoons and nights
I note that there’s a sale
jumpers reduce to two hundred and fifty nine
wow- a quarter of my wage
a jumper I could buy elswhere
or a copy anyway for fifty

Glasses

A trip to the Optometrist
it’s like being on a space exploration mission
exploring the terrain of my inner eye.
My chin rests in a holster
and on a screen I can’t see
the inside of my eye is lit up
like a map of mars
Canyons
valleys
rivers on the surface
are translated from the vessels and arteries
leading to the optic nerve
and the macula

I look into a machine
a small green universe stares back
from the left corner
a nebula – spinning like the beginning of time
with time warp fingers reaching out to me
A flash bulb erupts
like the beginning of time
and for a moment I am temporarily blind
yellow vision.
Looking inside another machine
I see a microchip pattern
and an orange beam
is it tractoring into my brain?
hypnotically guiding me to buy
a certain frame
or do something like blow up a bridge
at some later time

EYE TEST

The White face hovers in front of me
reminding me of the monsters
from H.G. Wells
War of the Worlds
In the distance an eye chart
lit from behind glows muted
with the left I capture the top line
with the right
HOPELESS
the white face of the Martian hoovers in
sucks my eyeballs out for its greater purpose
lens’ flip and clatter as he makes adjustments
is it clearer or better
this way
or this
some are borderline
some easy
the right eye harder
it’s more far gone
in the end
a number of options are referenced
and a pair of ‘fill in’ lenses
are supplied
read the bottom line on this please
in print it must be ’6′;
I read for the first time in twenty years
removed its a swimming blur
like those pictures of cultures dividing
and dividing

I ask about three-D
how 15 years before
when having eyes tested
I could not see the fly’s wings floating above the page
with the pretend glasses they do
Amazing
a thought occurs
-would this explain my failure
to connect a bat with a ball
a racket with a spinning green piece of felt
putting a ball in a basketball hoop
yes – very probably he says
I’m amazed
maybe I’m not crap at sport after all
instead it’s my genetic disposition
that’s at fault
what a revelation
and another thought about neglectful parenting
why was this never picked up before
did I mention it or think it a problem
no, just blame myself for everything as usual
WRONG

FRAMES

Tanya helps me with frame selection
I declare my complete lack of attention to ‘style’
I trust her judgement
she’s done it for a while
we run through options.

With frames selected we sit
she has to fill each form in duplicate
for the two pairs of specs
the two for one deal

I am transfixed watching her script flow
it’s the neatest I have ever seen
each letter formed with love and care
and repeated one level down
I remark about it
she mentions O.C.D.
What does her house look like I wonder
her car
neat and orderly
I quip- “the exact opposite of me”

I’m surprised to find that with insurance
I only have to pay
One-O-Nine.
One hundred and nine dollars
for two pairs of glasses
ridiculous
how do they stay in business.
I farewell the matron of neatness

COFFEE

At a small table I secretly speak into my recorder
capturing the atmosphere
there’s a bloke about 25
a smart black jacket
well groomed hair
looking expectant
talking about his history of employment
to a woman with pink scarf
her back to me

a gaggle of business suits arrives
at the table nearby
no coffees ordered
but they start a business meeting
‘right there and then
I listen in
between gulps of English Breakfast
and slugs of chocolate fudge
I know
I know
it’s not on the diet
but who cares
I’ll get back on it soon
won’t I?

Chestnuts

Roasting chestnuts
corner of Elizabeth and Bourke
a round barbecue plate
nuts sitting on top
ready to pop
and pre cooked bags
to be taken away
wait in golden patience

Train seats

The velour is faded
the outer edges dark midnight blue
but where punters
have pressed their bodies
it’s faded now
a coating of icing sugar
makes the geometric pattern dissolve

We plough out of the station
sowing the seeds of the journey home
but outside it’s grey
the grey late afternoon
it seems to weep into the carriage
all through the carriage
painting the faces of everyone
with quiet desperation
to get home
to get where they’re going
please
get me off this train
they seem to be screaming
everyone

Confectionary free

I thought this was an aisle
where you could not buy confectionary
upon enquiry I discovered 
confectionary was not available
to those little fingers of little children
they would not be tempted
on the way through

Reaching out
fingers stretched
for bright wrappers
enticing colours
sucking you in
making your hands reach out

You remember the last time
you tasted pleasure
and your brain threw out chemicals
pathways of pleasure
released in advance
of what it will be like
to have another kiss
another glance

But mum knows best
she’s headed straight toward
the aisle with the sign
‘confectionary free’
no temptations today
just a round of magazines
the latest on Brad and Angelina and jen
and the death of Michael Jackson
and pack of ‘ransom-
“Twenty fives”
They’re insatiable
like that hunger for the lollies
That lies between the purse and the trolleys
at lazy checkout lanes
at the supermarket
Overheard – “I did the world a favour, I did

Poverty

you might own acres of property
but if no-one loves you’
you’re living in poverty
you can have all the money in the world
fast cars and call girls
but if nobody loves you
you’re not free
you’re living in poverty

Getting There

Hey!
I know people who are ‘getting there’
with their brand new kitchens
their plasma televisions
their buns in the oven
living out the lives they imagined
the life they planned all those years ago
but where does it get you
in the end?
when you’re really gone

Yeah. I see them
chained in suburban bondage
slaves to the kids and the mortgage
always in a daze – exhausted
wondering how to divorce
form their present reality

Some people seem worried
about what’s in store for me
I didn’t make that choice you see
and when I turn Old and grey
who is going to look after me?
I don’t believe in that far ahead
just a day at a time
I might be soon be dead
so just one day at a time

Those choices made long ago
forced on me by circumstance
choices made for me really
just been following the script
playing my role
it’s got me to here
wherever here might be
developing my character
through trials and tribulations
the only thing is
there’s no standing ovations
no fans at the door asking for autographs
it’s a singular choice
a strange path – but really
it’s not for me
that other life.
Sunday wak June 28

Crisp
blue skies
taste the clarity of teh air as you breathe in
so cold you smell it in half frozen nostrils
sun still low
eleven in the monring
loking up at electricity pylons
their complexity
of knotted and tangeld wires
where they cross from the other street
and intersect in  spider web lattice
supported by porcelain kunuckles
the chit chat of Indian minors echoes
from the roof tops

A man slides by in a motorised buggy
like my dad had
an orange flag for visibility
flaps casually in the breeze
he wears a beanie to keep his head warm
a red flashing light signifies the rear of the vehicle
he goes shooting off down the footpath
creaking over the cracks

A tree besides the Freemasons retirement village
actually at the entrance way
its leaves are now completely golden,
nothing green at all
glowing in streams of midday sun

Poplars
their white pasty bodies
sprouting boughs and branches
and then smaller tentacles
that drip down in shrinking submission
thin reedy fingers
waving in the wind
bare of leaves as winter is approaching
The only trees with any clothes on
are the Eucalypts

turns come gliding in to land on the lake
their wings flapping furious
legs paddling in mid air and in the water
aiming for the central bread throwing position
be-ware of the swans
they’ll try to take it away from you

Rowing Instruciton

Stroke, stroke
not sure if this is coming from on board
or form the coach traveling along on dirt track
beside the lake
he tells them to rest
his nasal tones
emanating from a megaphone
echo and bounce off the water
to us on the other side
who are quietly going about our business
of circumanavigating the pond
all five kilometers of it

11 am city still shrouded in mist
not going to lift
how do aeroplanes navigate it?

the Basics of life?

Love Fear Anxiety Peace happiness sadness shelter company food money home entertainment care future past present a job

Grass
uncut
maple leaves are caught in it
sitting upright
vertical
in dying autumn brown

Trees along the road have superfine branches
which from a distance
give us the illusion
that they are out of focus
 -do not adjust your reality

SONG IDEA/ CONCEPT
- HOW DO YOU KNOW
how do you know that this person you’re about to meet
might be someone or something you want to hang out with
How do you know before you meet them?

How do you know if you’ve got he jog
b
how do you know

car turning right stretched across the road
turns the corner
he got tooted
makes me think of road rage

HDT

A fellla in a red HDT team jacket
plays with an ipod or a miniature radio
as he absently walks along the street
looking right past me
flipping between stations or songs
searching for something
as he manically walks on down Greville

A muscle bound man controls two dogs
a pug and a Rhodesian ridge back
his tattoos prance past me
the little dog stretched at the end of the leash
is panting and straining
as if he’s almost out of breath
he tells them to come on
as he steers them left
around the corner past the railway bridge

Pie shop

A beef burgundy
with real chunks of flaking meat
been smimering away for hours to get it so tender
I’m sitting in the window
looking out on the street
a couple of blokes on their lunch hour
demolish a pastie each
they cover the pie with snakes of tomato sauce
they laze back jokingly
nothing too serious today for these guys

A tribe of folks from the mission
wearing loose fitting basketball jackets
hover past me
arguing about something inconsequential
there’s the threat that something might happen
something
they gather on the corner of the town hall
their ascending argument
sound like birds in a shootout competition at dusk
just like the brids that frequent those same trees
below the town hall clock face

20 June
Driving in the rain

misty tails rise from rubber
cannot see twenty feet ahead
when the rain sails down so hard
the road becomes a fog
a smear through the windscreen

Water in a Pond

Trees reflect in a pond of mucky brown water
between raindrops that make cirlces and form bubbles
the water segments into  fans
reflections of the trees split into many layers.

Insignia

soldiers ,sailors , airmen
have plaques dedicated to them
along a walkway on the beach
cast in bronze
they light up the path
in heroic footlights
batallions
squadrons
deeds done
all refelct bravery
16 june
Cabrini plants

Soft rabbity ears of a plant
adorn the driveway to Cabrini
soft furry ears
in shades of  frosted pale green
turn to a crimson covering

Princes freeway sunrise

looking in the rear  view
the horizon split into bands
puprle and orange bands
the headlights of other cars are still on
despite the appearance of the sun
the road ahead is lit in orange glow
street signs and telephone poles
reach into the sky
in an orange tinted mixture
The sun shines directly into the rear view
The  You Yangs are just coming awake
stretching their arms out of a blanket of fog and mist
over the fields
over the cows pasing by
along the Princes Freeway
the mist lies
the sun now a heavy orange globe
fighting against gravity

Pregnancy

A woman leans back on a seat
waiting for a bus
rubbing her tummy
it’s bulging and sore
he must be kicking in there
does she wonder how she got here?
is this a wanted pregnancy
is she happy?