Like Mary Oliver Did

I’ve failed.

I got my sea slug poem

but not the one about yr cataract

how when it was removed

& the dressings came off

you went out into the world

like Mary Oliver did

amazed at all you saw.

going Wow! Wow!

yr little expostulations of beauty.

Ants Doing Yoga — & Other Wild Things

Ants Doing Yoga

I was watching ants filing back and forth the other day

When two pulled ovef for a chat; and I wondered how it was





They knew each other seeing they all look alike; and I

Concluded they must have individual features like us:





Hooked noses, for instance, bushy eyebrows, little pot bellies

And carry nicknames like ‘Shorty’, ‘Ginge’ or ‘Spike’





And further ants must have little to say seeing they say it

So quickly, but mostly I wondered where ants are off to





All the time; it is hard to imagine them doing yoga, or chilling

Out at the cricket or at the beach in a deckchair or moshing out





in a mosh pit to Adam and the Ants. So where do ants go?

Ants

Ants

1

Like angry black hairs

the ants scatter everywhere

when I discover them

under the hem

of the water drum

2

They are like

runaway exclamation marks

on their side

their heads

the full stops

3

A year after the gulf war

I stayed with a friend in the states

who suffered a home invasion

of ants .

He sprayed , stamped , stomped

on them

till his house was clean .

That’s what Bush should have done

with Saddam he proclaimed

4

There are no ants in heaven

a priest explained to us at school .

Some how they got beneath the creator’s gaze

like cockroaches , rats and spiders .

They have no souls .

Kill with impunity

5

Smidgins of black , dashes.

a black din of limbs

an amokery of midnight slivers

through a crack in our world

they got in

*pic courtesy of pinterest

Two Venetians

I was in bed with two Venetians, a long black

and a sleazy paperback

by Suzanne Pleshette

when an angry text erupted like a boil

on my iphone:

where were you, it said, I looked for you

& your floozy

everywhere in the cinema?

It was my old mate George.

Please don’t call her a floozy, I said.

We couldn’t make it. Sorry.

Sorry !!! Couldn’t make it.?

To see my new film, my best yet.

‘Ticket To Paradise’.

We’ll catch it on DVD, I said.

It’s not the same, he snapped,

sounding peeved and pedantic.

I don’t like hanging up on George

but he can work himself into a lather.

I dipped a Venetian into my long black

& carried on reading.

Better

You apologize to the cat

the turtle in the tank

the goldfish in its bowl

and yr other half

in her room.

What got into you?

You’re not an IED

primed to go off

at the least provocation.

You coulda done better, mate.

You coulda done better.


A Little More

A Little More

I think it’s okay to want a little more.

A little more love.

A little more applause.

That second glass of red.

Another night in paradise with you.

We were not built for abstemiousness.

We have gullets, appetites.

It does not mean excess.

A modicum of more will do.

Anita + Heydon: Hard Love

Anita + Heydon: Hard Love. For Don, Tnkerr and others

Are they still together , I wonder ,

after all these years ?

Had they cemented their love

after the concrete hardened ?

Are they still living there

in # 510 ?

Is she still the boss ?

[ her name did go first ]

Did she walk all over him

like people do to their names?

Did their love fade ?

Will it outlive the concrete ?

Are they inside now

holding hands on the sofa

[ like their conjoined names

on the footpath ]

watching tv ?

I’d like to go up to the door

and ask ,

Hey ! do Anita and Heydon live here ?

But I stare at the names instead .

One day their love was fresh

as the newly poured concrete .

I’d like to think it still is.

Is It Okay?

Is it okay to take a post down?

I took a post down the other day

but no one noticed,

said anything.

Look, it had its chance.

But no one came up and asked it

to dance.

It slumped, sad and neglected on the page,

loudly weeping.

You can’t have that on a public forum.

It’s like that Philip Hodgkins poem, ‘Shooting the Dogs’.

I had to take it down to the basement,

put it out of its misery.

I just hope no one was watching.

Shrek

This is Shrek.

Say hello to Shrek.

As you can see this Shrek is NOT a fictional character

but real flesh and blood.

Nor is he green or ogre-ish.

Shrek works at the Stunned Mullet,

the best fish and chip shop in the suburbs

cooking and serving customers.

His real name is Srikanth and comes from India.

Workers at the Hilton near the airport where he used to work

contracted his name to ‘Shrek’ in 2016.

Srikanth loves it and has been called ‘Shrek’ ever since.

He is warm and amiable and has a wicked sense of humor.

When you get served by Shrek it brightens your day.

Guillotine

Guillotine.

Who devised you?

You look so cute

so placid

so trustworthy

warm wooden seat

on the toilet rim

but when I lift you up

to pee

you don’t stay up

like other toilet seats

but drop down

heavily

like something medieval

a guillotine

ouch !