scouting for talent in the streets
(for the next Michael Jackson or Pavarotti
or anyone who can make me money)
I spotted there in the streets of Melbourne
a bloodhound and a puppy, each with a violin
and each playing –
the puppy a natural, the bloodhound indistinct

I spread out on the floor
the talent contract for a team
and the bloodhound signed with a grin;
but just as the puppy lifted its paw
another dog came running, picked up the puppy
and ran off with the speed of lightning

“****! What’s that about?”
I asked the bloodhound

“Oh,” said the bloodhound sheepishly
*“That’s his mum, my wife – she doesn’t want
him to be a musician like me…
she’d rather he grows up to be a doctor!”

Strutting popinjay,
wears many hats,
to be precise:
                     she displays
                     a new hat
                      each day,
                      as her trophy before the world.
                      Each with a new color,
                      and a scent different.
                      Her crude wide smirk
                      conceals
                            ­         a secret
                     each one is pinched
                                                     from her lover of the day.

In sunshine or in shadow how rich the loamy soil
light of earth, dream of rebirth greening
lilac buds and bluebells ring
magenta hills, aubretia spring
of burning fire
A mossy path of violets, soft my feet to wander
muscari blue the garden dew
birds to drink of leafy puddles
bluest skies go grey, drifts so swift a rain cloud by
to water quick the daffodil, silk umbrellas yellow
and comes alas the greening grass
robins hopping, weaving
Spring unfurls in flowery births
tiny violets upon the earth

Sleeping on sofas, sleeping on floors
Friends are her family
Her mother abroad

Little miss nobody, pin-ball girl
Says why are you being so nice to me
It's our job says the nurse
As she stitches her hand
Everyone is somebody

You folks are amazing
You really care
Best phone the hostel
Tonight I'll go there

So vulnerable
Naive, street-wise in equal measure
If you had a family
You would be their treasure

I cannot remember, only I can feel the empty chill of steel
sometimes, colored ghosts of autumn whisper in the shadows
that I follow, to take me far from home

Today with sun or clouds and all the bluest skies
a truth revealed, and I awakened to a madness of lakes and rivers,
spilling over - to flood, a place
within

So swift the night will come, soon to leave this home
darkness winds a long road on
and still the sun will come