point to point

XVI

imagine
and all I had to my name
these lines

a spider
knitting in cheese-wire

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink

XV

I have composed a list of bodies
entering the cordon of the homicide
the victim lying in his cold cocoon
I have included my own
without compassion without enmity
my childhood bedroom
my father’s coffin
I have compiled the names
of femicides
opening the present to
continuing mutilation

to direct a calm gaze
and not to turn away
from this world
what kind of hell
has literature become

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink

XIV

because I can be seen almost everywhere I go
and the information is attached to my person
so that my physical location is for all practical
purposes a mere indexical and the actual
presence of my head and hands heart respiratory
and alimentary organs is a dimensionless
point and feet and legs which permit my per-
ambulation in space and get me around
do not amount to much of anything except
like the other things I carry from place to
place head and arm breast and genital
exist as liabilities and targets I am
constructed as a site for data flow a
limited silo over a lifespan
occupied by contesting interests their
sum monopoly on the nothing
of mortality
because of this
age ethnicity gender
passport number
this credit
and the rating
your gift to me
I cannot be fixed
anywhere
I am
completely
mobile

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink

XIII

The love of the body is the longest lasting
because the body does not age
its breakdowns and desertions
where it was liquid now it is mineral
where it would move turning to stone
taking its leave falling ripening
sagging ripping folding in wrinkles
dappling blemishing dying to itself
and its touch deaf in its voice muted
by the noise of collapse shrinking in its
vision and its habits failing in its reach
and its holding dropping lacking in sight
of itself—foolish, its battles with disease
growing from its substrate its own senseless
vegetation wrapping organs in leaves
tuberous growths and wooden tumours
taking over the fatal defeat is not a process
to be managed because the body does not age
it is animated and has life at its essence.

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink

XII

when did history become so thick
and fat you could no more find purchase
for thought or feeling on its moving surface
or in its soft back for your hooked head
and fingerholes than stand on soup or plot
the action in the atmosphere of each atom
on every other when exactly did it become
slippery so no one could gain a hold on
its heaving neck or break its horizontal rush
but only sink in without a single thing
sinking in to the limitless vertical depth
we are all of us in suspension still animate
carried on in aspic limbs congealed
with carrying on where we gesture with
one another our chins tip forward meaning-
fully eyes roll and brains progress on jellied
wheels from one thing to the next and back

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink

XI

things could have turned out differently
you might be forgiven for thinking
but I wouldn’t presume

if you’d taken another path
where the way forward was somehow
clearer instead of walking in deliberate

error even while knowing better it
would appear to me you had nothing
nothing left to lose does that mean

something
someone

what difficulty can excuse and
ought judgement ignore
dark within the heart of disbelief

or neglect that negligence

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink

X

Australian poverty

the children

who look after the children

every so often an adult shouts from indoors

sunlight breaks the brick-line in a sharp diagonal

and the kids’ toys

and the barbecue and the washing basket

and the lawn scuffed into leprous tufts by dogs and men

lie sad

bright and unattended

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink

IX

The facts are these
blue and red strobe riverside
and in Sandgate blocking a sidestreet

So we drive home
from what Jo called
wet wild and willy world

having picked up
after a short wait
beef-fat fried cod and chips

each put in a cardboard box
a paperbag sealed with sellotape
and we spot

before pulling in to the carport
one of the dogs we’d left locked up
running loose on the roadside

pull in and jump out
expect the laundry window broken
no

a single pane
from the glass louvres
has been carefully placed in the

stainless tub and the
backdoor’s unlocked.
The dog’s escaped

through the short gap between
two panes
but stranger is the power’s off

checking the box four circuit breakers
blown
and not the main breaker

and although the smaller dog has got out
a kelpie cross
the larger mastiff-boxer still contained

in the back yard has not deterred
any would-be burglar
from breaching his territory

to switch off the circuits
to leave without taking
a single item in the house

not our passports
not the mac pro lying open
on the chest in the front room

not the birthday presents unwrapped
on the kitchen table.
A storm is forecast

but it never arrives
south of Brisbane the sky flashes
and we take every precaution

putting the car under cover
for protection from fist-sized hail stones
that never come.

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink

VIII

blunt caws of raven
hack the morning open

for the sharper melodic procedure
of butcherbird

on the dripping
hanging carcase

black men prefer dreaming
while the white men’s dreams are a
coloured
a coloured film
over waking eyes

American suburbia

a slick of oil
pouring on the land
a seeping greasy froth
settling

unconscious.

what do the women do

people
the coloured
coloured film

on waking eyes

and dreaming

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink

VII

watch my tongue

the dumb land
rose clay red

shuttered blocks
of Moreton Bay

in the optimistic gloom

in the bright oblivion

point to point

Comments (0)

Permalink