a cleansing of raindrops
gently falling
tinkering delicate rhythms
highlight a sunset
through grey clouds
billowing across a tableau
nobody painted

these old walls
for many years
the dust settled
occasionally vacuumed

saxophone highlights
the melody drawn out
like the softest flick
pictures drawn by notes
the lilies are glistening
the backyard replenishes
newer shoots sprout
in spring they shall flower
more than last year

the narcissist
in a  mirror
i saw another

blurred silhouette
reflection
blinded by light

blurred pixels
reflecting digital
puzzle pieces

making a painting
matching a box
the sky illusive

connections elude
the entire image
grass sways in the wind

struggling with shadows
that don't match
watch the diagram

bucolic with sheep
another country
a photo betrays

table of fragments
that just won't match
the cabin complete

a flowing stream
meanders over
a piece on the floor

panorama
cut up in shapes
connecting pieces

which bit of blue
matches another
how does a horizon spread

across a table
pictures & words
make patterns

the spire of a mountain
plain in retrospect
seemed like a face

of quiet reflection
building a picture
a hole in the sky

hills bulge with eucalypt dimples
valleys flow, ending nowhere
flocking rosellas, seed seekers
knowing where to go
tease each others hunger
wings flap over husk battles

in a room of art a friend from the distance
approaches a moniker
seconds later a recognition
leads over pavers to an afternoon
discussion of gone years
the odd siren

day slips behind a mountain
milky cloud planes deepening grey
horizon pink stripes
fade to washed orange
a crescent high in the sky
brightens with night's intent

preparing for a different adventure
dark means a return to nest
with fire, ceiling, an armchair
another silent scream
a boiling stove
new words to consider

trying to find
original material
in channels of repeats
i've seen all these
I lived them
never expecting
to repeat
the same plot
dug deep
they all take their turns
shovelling dirt

outside the window, blowing smoke
ash falls blind
a phone signal
never before that graphic
lack of conversation
when asking to use a chord
you said no.
worried about sense. that was
never my concern. the bill was yours.

merry pranksters drove by, hurling
invisible paint bombs, superimposed
oil slicks on overhead projectors

even then nothing was even
it was all odd. ticking off drinks
your pad averaging numbers.
then you wanted to talk again
telling you I was leaving as
nothing about that was mine.
there was no gold in that pan
nothing resembling dust
just the echo of boots

big city room, streets quiet with
buzz in the distance. someone
awakens to a bladder, they retired earlier.
a siren wails & wails & is gone

emergency words. i don't know how they arrive
then are gone
like a thief stealing thoughts
transcribing the night.

equinox promises
a dance of planets
& there is no meaning unless
you choose to believe that.

still again
time to retire from the page
file things away
alphabetical order

at this time of night
a question of wine
knows the answer
despite no enquiry
the show must go on
accomodating misunderstandings
improvised proceedings
when your glass gets to
low tide and having eyed
half a bottle still waiting
just one more
change of channel
to an athlete changing essence
visiting a vineyard to
taste other flavours

flame rose, stick of narrow
possibilities. orange flare
blue core
blackens oak splinter
fingers warm
sap absent
bending spine, a rounded tip,
carbon residue.
burn or extinguish. head splits
ashes glow, table glass & micro
blowtorch. moths left &
specks of grey
reflect in
a single ray of sun

energy flows from a chemical
intervention
so many involuntary tasks
ticked off an unscrawled list
plans metastasize. there may be a cure
in searching for sun on a morning in winter
parrots scratch for seed on the lawn
their flock depleted, somewhere there
hibernating for a change of season
freezing sleet & faded wings

fear stretches its tentacles
into dark corners where indistinct features
collect dreams on a frosted night.
episode one is about an artist
famous and almost encountered
doubts clouding over
& stifling shoots
where shutters click and the whir
of pixels freezes a moment
not to be captured

an orange pill, again each night
stuck in the throat then another gulp
waves break on a ragged coast
the words in a book begin to blur
a story moves on, fading letters
the stars paint a glittering sky
& moon hangs low under mountain pines
gradually the volume fades
a paper chain
& pictures start to haunt again

night of nothing
but tea
soothing the beast

burn fades
beach company
occupied towel

fish & chips
wealthy postcode
the sky turned black

blanket of hail
cracked from thunder
staccato notes

empty roads
despite saturday
a key in the door

early awakening
clouds outside
winged chorus

sun dim
rain again gathers
hugging the blankets

deciphering tweets
where do birds
shelter from storms

for Karen


raindrops spot a timber deck,
grey early morning, sunless.
twitter of birds welcome a misty awakening,
fridge hums, preserving everything.

magpie glides to rest on a line,
stark black and detailed white.
flies away to a branch unseen,
plates of evening remnants wait.

rosemary arms reach to warmth.
remembering when the light went out.
glow of blub over table in a gentle
interrogation. torture internal.

open shed in the yard’s deep corner
silhouettes of garden tools
waiting to fire, trim fresh growth
leaves of grass.

winter lost to constant storms
whatever’s there. magpie back with
accusing stare of malevolence.
clothes float as ghosts

Swimmers under sandstone overhangs
Pink tree of flowers a sculpture
Blazing in a summer extending
Into the next season.

Concrete another blue to the horizon
Icons accumulated across the harbour
Mansion upon edifice, street after avenue
Walkers approach in droves raising dollars.

Children splash throwing soft missiles
No particular target.
At the head of the bay low tide
Reveals ***** scurrying this way and that.

Climbing hills of leadlights, bricks and money
Worlds away yet just beside
Walls in which many inhabit
Accounts of monumental difference.

Waters lap & lick at rocks
Ragged shells of oysters cracked
Joggers pound the bitumen
Lines of rare ants travelling.

distant trucks thunder, echoes
rolling to highways. rumble of an infinite snake
re-forms. bulb of early winter flicks a
chill dawn switch.

diet rest. roused by masculine weakness. mind a Geiger
lost to solace. months before, witness to birds searching for a
weathered nest returned to twigs. building new
shelter, stick by stick, between protected branches.

family of fledglings waits & squawks
for bugs & worms. engineer’s toil of wings, claws & beak,
gathering remnants from eucalypts, weaving
& melding a fragile & gradual shelter.

morning sheds light, more cars hum, the reptile
lengthens. blood streams through arteries to a vital *****
without heart, lungs gasp for breath. weary heads of
commuters magnetized to caffeine spill from stations.

roar of trucks, clatter of trains, buses hum and insecure
shouts through wireless devices to invisible nobodies.
green lights, red lights, chicken players. chaos of city stutters &
halts, stutters & halts.

sudden gust beats at coats and dresses, whips ‘round trousers.
leaves limbo as autumn strips summer from trunks. a new nest
hit by a violent burst tumbles, disintegrating to
fragments.

a lullaby for Finn


fingers clutch air, tickling atoms
restless new boy, limbs long & soft
flakes of skin adjust to atmosphere
sunrays through glass warming his back

a dinosaur suit primary & bright
lunch on a simmer, mother not far
tearing of hair, he grizzles & squirms.
gently swaying pram & springs

away in a slumber wondering things.
back in a dark room hopes are too high
nap that was short is broken by cry
snuggle to neck, respite from the light

rubs eyes with a velvet fist of pink.
lucky new life in a household of care
father, two sisters to also guide here
dream on little boy, a world is out there

a car hums as the sun wakes
a new day. a move with a list
of numbers. they draw a truck.
clothes, books, bed, music, electronic accessories
another room
with skyscrapers
a balcony looking down

another stranger to unfold
to keep things from
flowing over a cliff
in a hidden forest
of charred trunks
crunching footsteps
bushwalkers

are still & squirrel
their screens
away from the canopy
eyes safe from cacophony
tentative steps
tread upon worn pathways
a new source of food

a *** simmers
infusing flavours
held & prepared
a plate with irregular patterns
the harbour stretches underneath
a path unwalked
another horizon

filtered moon
your dull shine
illuminates scars
skin zippers
sealed and closed
keep the blood in

possum tail
a ragged trunk
a foe appears
hisses & spits
a star garland
the streetlight flickers

a year that ends
with hopes of change
a fire of irons
seasonal breezes
embers flare and
threaten roofs

droplets spot
extinguish danger
midnight strikes
a different tone
the song of a single
note

at 4am
with heavy lids
the dawn is nigh
sparkles fade
as dreams collide
their psychic cleanse

the softest of smotherings
makes a cat purr
louder

soft drops
tickle the leaves
of orchids
moon rising
in a southern sky

day is done
the night enters
she knows the code
red is poured
calm descends

the grey of a sunday morning
everything muted
by clouds carrying stormy promise
over chimneys in the midst of a city
birds are heard
settling into the elbows of trees
no-one moves outside the gates
news reports repeating words from weeks ago
when battered wings hung out to dry
branches across paths
& on a mountain platform
a soaking gale extinguished a cigarette
stolen as headlights approached

see how the sediment drifts to the river bed
collecting over months, years, centuries
forms shades of colours that relate
to a single tone on a paint chart
to order from a disgraced man
rotting in jail before he passes a cursed
fortune to the daughter. how she relishes the numbers
& still likes to cast a rod in the stream
where the trout are jumpy and her wide
pants are proof against numerous things

hear how the current washes against the sandy
river beach. stretching your ears for surface
vibrations, spotting the littlest insects skating
hopefuls dodging the granules. smell the
clarity of water which has no scent but is
pure and hardly exists but you can feel it
rising up above your knees as your shins soak
and synthetic legs protect you from tadpoles
that morph into frogs you would never kiss.

hook a fish on barbed wire and watch it struggle
light the campfire and notice the flames rise
a communion with devils that breathe hot
embers. taste the flesh white and smokey
lick a fork until nothing remains
but taste buds that linger with the memory
of something captured. touch the rock
that is grey and brown and black all at once
how pink crystals sharpen & glisten

in storms windows need protection
glass darkness with an inadequate
deflection of weather. everything blurs
in a foggy mirror & the steam only gradually
dissipates. a sheen clean from
distractions. seeking answers

spoken in a different tongue.
the vanity displays a book of words
unfamiliar. Asian scripts.
Hieroglyphics of faded pictures.
a dog eared page with a code
a logarithm missing

essential sections
when the sun beats down
& glare changes focus
eyes turn deadly
they misread the script
a waterfall of assumptions

flows from globes as if earth dehydrated
to crack skin
seeping truth through
when it needs encrypting
the hacker battle
mistakes an error message

in the corner
a hot beer garden
thirsty palm is sad
holding cigarette butts
their fingers burnt
water scarce
lifting his ale
the regular customer
sees a face he knows
that man
pretends not to notice

my own spirit
someone I knew
someone still close

has left
she floats
around my head

my sister lives
though cancer
stole her

from here
I went back
to our final bar

for a last wine
she speaks to me
sometimes I sit there

other times
I just look
through the stained panes

but she never
leaves
her crochet

on my sofa
colours surrounded
by black

if i sit at
that bench
i can glimpse

her hospice
through the glass
collect those shards

the black vacuum
darker hours
remove the mites
they eat & eat
away at themselves
there's nothing left
to go by
but another beginning
when the half hour
ticks over
you don't know
what to do
with that time
but to reach out
into the skeleton
to remove the battery

display of strut, bird-lady departed.
vacuumed in fur during mountain winters.
cocktails at five, tales of life lived.
a modern disease tolled bells.

pecks on a red door, footprints on steps,
twilight brought a royal display from
deep in bush, day after day his noble plumage
green, blue, purple eyes watchful,

a holy farewell.
under an oak at saturday’s end
he returns for an encore of lessons
from heaven. nurture, renewal,

kindness shrouded in ritual dance.
sister protector wears feathers of colour,
imprinted with love, caring whilst fading,
rot taken hold.

peacocks appear, ostentations abound,
another abyss narrowly missed.
evolutionary lessons, true colours unfurl,
she rises from ashes with radiant glow

i didn't want to say it
i have before when you
weren't listening
even though i noticed
your earlobes react

i didn't want to remember
what that was like
i had been there before
and i knew
no good could come of that

i sometimes think of writing
things down & scrolling
to the next line
like each verse is
an interminable chapter

i write a book no one
would pay money for
who knew the story
they watched that
in an adaptation

when the photos are packed
the end is nigh
when you don't want to think it
but you can't help that
the cell gets in
takes hold like cancer
i don't really mean that
you've been gentle
introducing me to all those people
who were kind but i never
expected that
i never knew you knew
what I was missing
the only piece of the puzzle
was how you fit things together
that shouldn't go there
and I type and I type
and the auto-delete never activated
so i can write more lines
and sniff a path through palms
and shrubs and other low bushes
we take the bread and confess
secrets no-one should know
and I'm still here
lighting another cigarette
that glows in the black
but says nothing of time
or paper that's worthy
but the need to be mean
to get back the money
overrules all else and shines
like a light in a fist
showing all the potential
I feel your removal
your fresh shoots in the tropical summer
your space for leftovers
the time to be quieter

under a rock is the only place
that muffles the buzz
bees in a jar
the cycle disturbed
buds stall
hard pods at the end of spring
the season changes. flowers that
should have bloomed
stunted beneath new leaves
empty vessels
trees fruit well
only every few years
preserving and storing away
building colourful shelves
to keep out the chill

glow from the back light
stretches shadows into dark places
a coat threatens

there's nothing there but
a line that is precise
my shoulder disappears into

the ink canvas
a possum's claws gripping
a trunk

and in the distance
the air thinner
a jet echoes across the sky

the end of a cigarette
another last puff
jonquils stand proud

their night scent
sweetens the breeze
the moon is a

dependable sliver
shining patches away
the glow from windows

only a ***
calls a cigarette that
without blushing
puffing away by the bay
waters lap like cancer
consuming the beast
clouds of now & then
faded
as fog is prone to
morning hours
which never see
me like this

your shape
in the wind
your fur coils
keeps you warm
undergarment weather
reinforcements
taking the strain
beneath the line
no solutions
nobody goes
there

autumn comes with drooping arms
promises of stripped branches
shapes confetti & a quilt
rests on a carpet of dewdrops

bubbles melt with the dawn
drifting on currents
air carries leaves
another renewal

rains decompose browns, yellows, reds
winter greens sprout
soil fed & energised
vegetable flowers form

subtler seasons
easier sleeping, slower awakenings
leaves raked & piled
hot gone days disposed.

frost arrives in certain geographies
red replaces white
the tank is full & burners cleaned
warming gas is very close

fronds of palms
bougainvillia drapes steel frames
taken root in silt
river depositing
minerals for strength.

fifteen years after
lost love & other chapters
tangled branches present
to a cloudless blue
all melts

across copper water
licks at mangroves
camoflauging a walkway
swept away by a record flood
new planks anchored

ice chinks a glass
wedge of lemon squeezed
& splashed
clear spirit clouds over
uncatatonic

a sip & chilled lips
soothing afternoon
a pause with a cigarette
the worst things
are the best

the castle seemed
abandoned
crumbling turrets
under years
of weather
drawbridge splintering
punctured soles
in the courtyard
faded benches
a three legged table
propped by rocks

door ajar
inside a maze
of mirrors & halls
clutching the bannister
master bedroom with
french windows
grimy glass filters sun
casting
abstract shadows on
a thin man's
gasp

for a legendary 70s-80s Sydney nightclub


wearing those clothes
like we did
being there

back then
paying too much
for that shirt

those shoes
pointy & suede
buckled not laces

16 in nightclubs
being tall
an original sister

1959 sequins
sunglasses matching
there was no light

being afraid
of the men
metamorphosis

women used
those urinals
confusion reigned

in a young man
we danced
the music spoke

bartenders poured
all sorts of
concoctions

another track
began
& a floorshow

eyes wide open
miming & movements
others queued

we were hustled
inside
out come the

freaks & early on
we got it all
on studded sofas

on the dancefloor
the fresco was
roamin

we moved feet
to the rhythms
slaves

not knowing how
formative those days
were

never getting anything
but drinks
until later

legal with dollars
juiced up
better lights

victims resting
in seats people
occupied

when a visiting act
blew simpler minds
wallets

we thought that
record was good
then they played

B52s, Blondie, Numan
the floor caved in
from ska

pogo. bouncers
cleared the scene
original grace

as an ape
stomps
up a staircase

disappears into
lookalikes
then a spotlight

highlighted
the real thing
that was us

the iron lace highlights a corner of the edifice
catches a moonbeam, reflecting into the masked eyes
of a robber tiptoeing like a chorus dancer. a couple
clink glasses, filled with wine. the waiter hears
a feather floating to rest on terracotta.
on the street below a woman with a bun has departed
the gallery, towards the window of a man hardly known.
she wanders through a courtyard. frames with eyes
scrutinise footsteps. heels echo in the square. she glimpses
in the reflection an indistinct moon. another illusion.
a fat bald man jumps on a bus. she's obsessed
by that portrait and had read in the news
stories of post-war posturings, a curtain imposed by a rip.
romance in the window & she never witnessed dessert.
somehow in the city a forest of trunks hides
a power-blue sedan & a man with a gun. she can't remember
what she's done. her sister escaped with a bag
filled with notes. dull clues. a uniformed team takes
their cues. they talk to strangers. she doesn't often do that
unless in a shop, for an order, or a bank vault with her code.
the plot mechanically drawn like the woman by her easel
in her 50s frock, trying to convince the telescope
he's the one. a siren wails as she arrives at a different
streetscape, blinded as a gaslight catches
the diamond necklace of a different diner
with a man who may or may not be her betrothed.
she tried to call. no answer. where did Norman go? black birds flock
& swoop overhead, hardly noticed against fading stars

threads woven around others become
something more than coloureds strands
the picture emerges ever so gently
details of a face late in proceedings
the seamstress, hair severe and concentrated glare
hears a voice outside the window
and the loom paints as her nimble fingers
pull and weave from six woollen scanes
greens for some trees and then
she releases the shades and pushing her chair
proceeds to the door to welcome someone

Into the abyss
I threw green blood sweat
dripping raindrops
other nightshades calling dreams
from improbable plots
I never read

The black gets darker before dawn
stars fade, the moon dips below the earth’s curve
from my obtuse window
grey shapes move into focus
today the sky refuses to allow
obvious sun

The sinkhole gets bigger from a certain angle
swallowing objects and plans
it’s always ravenous
stealing leftovers from my plate
emptying the dishwashing liquid
plates piling in the kitchen

Morning stretches into afternoon
Whirring of a neighbour’s mower
taming shoots
beheading the weeds that started to flower
after the last time
the manual fell into the depths

That night I remember
a day gone by when the veil fluttered
away from my face
clouds parted and a cylinder of rays
illuminated the abyss to show
how shallow it really was

she's there
in the full moon
& the beat of the rhythm

she's there
in the way the music works
like she played those notes

she's there
in the lyrics & how
the words rhyme

she's there
around my head with the sounds
that make a melody

there she is
dancing in death &
still present

a gift you unwrap
passing the parcel
underneath layers

she's there
in the core of a package
& I miss her

& I keep on missing her
but she's there
in everything I do

she tells me
what to do and what to say
as I play

records we liked together
then it's time
to turn off the radio

that she listened to
between the pain from the bones
& the liver ache

they zapped & they radiated
until none of that worked
but she stayed

until that never happened
& nurses attended
in a room with a view

of a sandstone wall
where men sold their stuff
all those years ago

planting seeds that corroded
every part of her
while she crocheted

her way out of some
kind of abyss
that I can't help but miss

then she spoke of
smoking with that lady
who knew me better

than any other woman,
on a night in August
with the moon full

I feel you
wandering through my own
meanderings

that I can't understand
you
keep asking questions

without answers
so I type & I rewrite
the story of you

a woman of substance
who makes me shed
tears

for what might have been
but never was
then that final breath

for my sister

such intricate stitching
in autumnal tones
your fingers creating
despite brittle bones

there on the sofa
we chatted and sipped
reruns with guns blazing
we knew the bleak ending

a daughter returning
from some fun or other
you dozed with slipped glasses
always a wise mother

the green squares
are sprouting
a force that renews
so many other beautiful hues

the sun keeps reflecting
all manner of blues
a grin from a tightly held
mouth near a noose

black borders surround
us all when we fade
your rainbow is rising
from such heavy rain

walk over the arch
to gold at the end
this blanket of love
warms like a true friend

there was a time when we stopped asking
mother stirring on the sofa in the morning
father snoring in a bedroom alone

there was breakfast to be done
school and work to be attended
no time for unasked questions

there were afternoons in an empty house
surrounded by friends smoking cigarettes
teenagers testing taboos

there were evenings at the table
three plates full and another burnt chop
a gambling man at the TAB or the pub

there was a time when the laws changed
hell broke loose with a violent storm
a drive to police with a stranger pursuing

there was never a time that I knew that man
I only saw odd and he seemed an imposter
blind to his havoc and angry from changes

there then was a time of relative calm
possessions gone and a room reclaimed
constant toiling to make sure of shelter

now is a time of mirrors and mazes
light refracting through a cracked prism
realising none of this is any reason

that was great
ten years later
lalique recollections
you weren't really there
like most of us
the music
we danced
& drank till we fell
down a new abyss
imax balcony
something to immediately
post

having been away
going through motions
absently drifting
a bag in the wind
drying out on the sand
waiting for the next tide
to replenish something
that's hard to define
has seemed lacking
missing in action
i read that book before
when I started
a new volume
some of the characters seemed familiar
however changed by living
days hard to keep up with
unconscious skills a pool
underwater resources
can be relied upon
when the blind lead with
strange instincts

before the day the night retires
black tucked in by dawn's pale fingers
lifting a cover of sun
across damp sands
evaporating patterns withdraw to shore.
needle arms salute the clouds
trails of lycra ants
empty heads
from reds and whites
the week's download & lick of salt
night blanket gone
new slate to paint
scene of beacons & vessels floating
seawall haven
man on a board paddles the current
drifting a distance
in reach of shore

ray peeps around a corner,
playful child reflecting light through
a periscope. lashing gales, umbrellas concave,
ponds dampen scurrying workers.

morning sky was blue, everything
turned with lunch. praise replaced by
a battle back to element of gas.
curtains drape to trap comforts.

again the sun hides, astral signals
unbalance and change. Venus to star
in a celestial ballet. scorching orb
of retina burn the prop and set.

eclipses of dramatic entrances in a single
month. exit from knots and
hibernation from the troubles of others.
a bear stomps to a hollow trunk.

king tides and fishermen endangered, waters
rise hauled by lunar spectacles.
maddening navigators endanger with
skids escaping weather and wheels.

pool at the back door trapped by
leaves on a grate. level rises then cleanses
bricks as a gust clears the drain. A single
dawn ‘til she casts her spell

on a damaged inhabitant. James Cook sailed
with secret plans to record her dance.
pressure on, contingencies set, the
ninth battalion armed and twitching

windows blue, brushfire outside frame
lens snaps unfocussed souvenirs
button stuck & final landscape
reel changed in digital camera.

business armour, new & costly
spare strides, fresh shod feet
new path to wear & flatten trail
movement forward, steps with bells.

behind eyes dam pressure, fears of
others, games with blades, paper greed
leather pouch of cards, no perception
rides of ease & empathy bypass.

laundry dangles worn & fresh
warm breeze & sweat beads, pegs support
changing days, transforming month
summer growth for a turn of season

blood runs
fangs in a neck
watching & seeing
stored expressions
stolen events

turning in
tucking sheets
white & crisp
leaving the dough
to prove

the oven
hot
mit with holes
conditions for
a good loaf

another retreat in carriages sliding over girders
cliffs reinforced with cages full of rocks
the highway extended
deeper into gums

blue haze dulled by the season
planter boxes resist colour
at the station
nobody disembarks

the evidence of past fires blackens eucalypt skins
higher, green reflects a dipping sun
snow is predicted
the sky turns grey

another week draws its curtains
over missteps, assumptions & the ashes of various misfortunes
clouds gather, a soup of smoke
an indistinct sun blurs from showers

but still a sliver of day
shows rewrites
other roads to follow
having no faith in satellites

that fall to earth
words misheard, wrong movements
& dead ends
coded road symbols