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THAT KIND OF NOTHING

it was that nothing kind of day
her ghost walked away thinking
"So this is what it's like to be dead?"

she sits inside her self
her body nothing but
borrowed badly fitting clothes

she makes her mouth
do talking
the ventriloquist of her self

her face in the mirror
just a painting
from some long long ago

she does dishes
like a robot learning
how to be human

can't tell you
what it is
only what it isn't

a sad shy smile
holding the whole lot of her
together...some...how. . .  

*

My friend lost her husband..these are just some of the ways she tried to break through her grief with words but mostly all was a numb silence where even tears were banished. I remember her laughing hysterically and saying he would be so ******* that he was dead and would refuse point blank to believe in his own death and that he was beside her and the only place to could meet was in their shared silence.
'I AM INFINITAS!"

here is
our wooden
O

it is
our zero
yellow

there is a 7
...but
it is missing

the puppy's
chewing
an orange 2

"Puppy...
. . .puppy
noooo!!!!"

the admonished
puppy
looks astonished

"This is a good
chew this orange 2."
it whimpers

she her self is four
and
...a little bit more

"When will I be
this one?"
"That's an eight!" I tell her

"It will take you four more years...
...of being you
to be it!"

The 8 has fallen
shhhh on its side asleep
...become an infinity

"Ahhh...infinitas!"
my little infant this
is what...you really are.

this unboundedness
of you
an infinity of you

forever after when
asked what age she is
she'd always answer

with a hearty laugh.
'I AM
INFINITAS!"

*

She had danced and sung and sung and danced. Now she was tired she retired to her favourite place...climbing up on my lap and treadling like a kitten she settled down to watch Kirk Douglas with me. Kirk was being Spartacus and everyone was claiming to be him at this juncture. She had heard the famous line as "I AM SPARK PLUGS!" and now rested from her exertions of watching and trying to make sense of a Hollywood movie...she ran around all over again dancing and singing: "I'M SPARK PLUGS...NO I'M SPAR K PLUGS!"

I used to teach her her letters and her numbers by means of a peashooter and wooden coloured alphabet and gaudy colourful numbers. Rather like Sir Thomas Moore teaching his daughters their letters by means of archery. The 8 lying down and having a rest and becoming an infinity symbol led to her next great statement which she always loved to proclaim as her little self identity..."I....AM...INFINITAS!"
MEETING HIM AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME

a flock of nerds
grazing upon
the cocktail sausage table

"...nerds/bores..."
she corrected herself
their spectacles flashing at her

all eyes were upon her
they licked their lips lasciviously
as if the one man

they sipped in synchronisation
their Adam's apples
bobbing up & down

she felt like a gazelle
amongst a pride
of rather skinny lions

he stood there
oozing caddishness
"Any port in a storm!" she smirked

she was aware of his
reputation
the hair on her arms bristling

"I say..." she said
"Is it true what people
make up about you?"

"All lies 'cept the true bits!"
he grinned
biting his moustache

the pack of nerds/bores
looked at her amazed
"Surely she. . .!"

ah but surely
she was
she laughed a little too loudly

their Adam's apples
reminded her of ballcocks
in flushing toilets

"Well, to be honest..."
he admitted mathematically
"90% true...10% lies!"

"...and so it was
I met your grandfather
and he became my chap!"

he always claimed
I tamed him with a smile
"...easy...easy as that..."

he was as delicious
as his reputation suggested
but I had the monopoly on him

a rather raffish looking
Raffles type
smiles salaciously in b&w

now
even the light
is growing old

we put his photo
back on the mantle piece
she always tells this story

we leave her
talking to his photo
as if it were real

she's always meeting him
for the first time
again and again

we drive away
the large nursing home
becoming smaller and smaller


THE SMELL OF TIME

my shadow
stick in hand
leads me through streets

as if flesh and
blood were unreal
the cobbles try to trip me

the sun
falls like rain
making golden the town

a squashed pomegranate
its seeds scattered
on a yellow patch of light

the smell of time
almost unbearable to the dead
and to the living

an unescorted soap bubble
ventures across the street
bursts on a cat's whiskers

the cat black as black
lives in its own private time
independent of the world's

for a fleeting second as I
pass by and appear in
a reflection on a brass door ****

an old woman
drowning in a shadow
becomes a shadow

her violet eyes close
time winds backwards to
her first kiss

my shadow escapes
leaving me all alone
wondering who I am

a ghost's laughter
time is
nowhere to be seen

*

All the disconnected joined up in an emotional join-the-dots...what the mind in camera mode elects to notice...the happenstance of life...an emotional osmosis...culminating in the death of the lady with the "Elizabeth Taylor eyes."

I had passed by her when she was alive and when I returned I heard people speak of her death...I didn't know her....but she was said to have been a great beauty in her youth and was much sought after and fought over.

She had just eaten her rice congee with rousong and zha cai as she did everyday at the same time.

The details were all totally independent of each other and were busy just happening to themselves. I was only aware of the woman's presence in passing and when I passed back that way she had vanished and a crowd was in her place debating all the details of her life....hence my knowing of them and so all the beads of thought that can happen at a moment's notice got strung as a necklace of happenings and her death which I hadn't witnessed except from overhearing the witnesses speak of her provoked the last three lines and how easy it is to be here and not here in the time that Time evaporates. The cat with the bubble on its whiskers was the last thing I observed before I entered the circumstance and commotion of her death.

All the disconnected joined up in an emotional join-the-dots...what the mind in camera mode elects to notice...the happenstance of life...an emotional osmosis...culminating in the death of the lady with the Elizabeth Taylor eyes. I had passed by her when she was alive and when I returned I heard people speak of her death...I didn't know her....but she was said to have been a great beauty in her youth and was much sought after and fought over. She had just eaten her rice congee with rousong and zha cai as she did everyday at the same time.
AUDENESQUE

As I walked out one morning,
walking down Auden Street,
No crowds upon the pavement,
No sound of people’s feet.

The nightmare it had happened
And Time had run away.
Blake’s rose it had sickened,
No tomorrow...now...no today.

Jack had been eaten by the giant.
The fairy tale had turned Grimm.
History? A tale told by an idiot...
Good God? Nobody believed in him!

I looked, looked in the mirror
And nothing of me could I see?
Desert and Glacier laughed in my face
mocking: “To be. . .not to be!”

It was late, late in the evening,
The world we had known was gone.
And I the only ghost left living
To ponder how it all went wrong.

**

Riffing off of Auden's wonderful ballad...

As I Walked Out One Evening
W. H. Auden - 1907-1973

As I walked out one evening,
   Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
   Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
   I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
   'Love has no ending.

'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
   Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
   And the salmon sing in the street,

'I'll love you till the ocean
   Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
   Like geese about the sky.

'The years shall run like rabbits,
   For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
   And the first love of the world.'

But all the clocks in the city
   Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
   You cannot conquer Time.

'In the burrows of the Nightmare
   Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
   And coughs when you would kiss.

'In headaches and in worry
   Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
   To-morrow or to-day.

'Into many a green valley
   Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
   And the diver's brilliant bow.

'O plunge your hands in water,
   Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
   And wonder what you've missed.

'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
   The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
   A lane to the land of the dead.

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
   And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
   And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror,
   O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
   Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window
   As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
   With your crooked heart.'

It was late, late in the evening,
   The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
   And the deep river ran on.

**

We were doing a poetry class with a famous poet and were supposed to write lyrics but he changed it to ballads. We were given 10 minutes to do one. When I read this he asked did you really write this right now and I said of course. He said it was no good so I slunk away under a stone. When we had a face to face meeting he told that it was very good and he had only been pulling my leg. You live and learn I guess.
SPEAK TO ME IN THE VOICES OF BIRDS

all the statues
start to talk
all at once

in the voices of various birds
I watch as their thoughts
take to the skies

now they fall silent
or speak only
in raindrops dripping from foliage

the rain puts
tears in their eyes
or gives the ends

of their
cracked noses
a snotty cold

a few heads
lie scattered
at their marbled feet

eyes closed
with lichen
lips sealed with green

they say nothing
only watch
the silence deepen

an earwig
crawls across
an eye

a passing guide
with a flock
of tourists

blah blah blahs
about the lives and lies
the statues once lived

and of the what
and who
they were

the statues
looked bored
having heard it all before

even in
Hungarian  
and Bulgarian

"Speak to me again...  
" I plead
"...in the language of birds!"

but all
their thoughts
have flown away
PLEASE DO NOT ADJUST THIS HUMAN

The verbs all slide 'bout
in my mouth but

I just can't get 'em out!

I swallow all my nouns &
adjectives & curses

clinging to
my soft palate.

I think "ouCH!"
but can't say it.

"*******..." I think some more
"*******!"

as my swearing doesn't seem to be
working!

"Well. . ." I think
"...at least I can still think..I think!"

I try to string a
couple a words together.

Somehow manage to
spit out some vowels!

"O!" I oh. "Eeee!" I eeee.

The consonants mutter to themselves
"...gggghhhhh fck t!"

The bump blooms
on the back of my head.

Blood laughs all over
my hair.

A notice appears
in my mind.

My mind's eye wonders why it is
written in double.

PLEASE DO NOT ADJUST
THIS HUMAN.

NORMAL HUMAN WILL BE
RESUMED AS SOON AS

...POSSIBLE!
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