Somme (2): where we breathe (underground)

  we are all the same I over here you … at least for you all fighting’s done at least for you a place to lie in peace while I catch my breath a paltry breath before the whistle blows you and I inhale the same this musty stuff my friend our air is one shared inspiration …

an assurance

the day time was his certainty he sat high over looked supervised decisions make and he the small god of the domain inferiors cowed as they were acceded agreed nodded fervently upheld and supported there was no doubt there could be no doubt but night the dread night night was filled with no-certainty with the …

Somme (3): for pride

malcolm my boy so well you look in your greatcoat and your slouch hat and khaki puggaree the rising sun gleaming on the side proud of you so proud that … oh I could almost burst for pride ~

The Meaning of Existence

We lost a big fish today. Poetry is become a smaller place.

aroused by axioms

Everything except language

knows the meaning of existence. 
Trees, planets, rivers, time
know nothing else. They express it 
moment by moment as the universe. 

Even this fool of a body
lives it in part, and would 
have full dignity within it 
but for the ignorant freedom 
of my talking mind. 

Les Murray – a well-known Australian poet who died today

… reminds me of another Geelong poet we know?

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Ravin d’Harbonnieres (2): hush

  hush be quiet now don’t … do not speak a word if we lay still enough they may not see us hear us they may not find us oh let them leave us I have had enough too many fears too much explosion cover me cover me I will cover you lie quiet my …

all (is the poem)

he chose to reside on the other side where everything is a psychotropic and his hallucinations just another stanza one more line in another poem ~ Poem #548 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Ravin d’Harbonnieres (1): staccato

baby baby go to sleep I will sing staccato an intermittent song I sing through all the night bravado broadside on and broadside gone I’ll sing you near . . . . then I will sing you . . . . there so baby baby go to sleep I will sing for you staccato  

somme (1): the golden sun

the sun goes down the golden sun desolation to its sleeping the night will come to take lost souls away into safe keeping no man is on the forest steps spectres dead still standing ... ... and of the spectres dead none standing blow the bugle blow it slow the golden sun defeated shining still but …

light (too heavy)

the dust he wrote was lighter than a touch from the breeze it filled the page mote by mote like swirling in a ray of fallen sunlight dazzling through the window dance his words could dance for him in rainbow colours soft as a blown breath rain fell down in the way rain always will …

in a canal escarpment on the Somme: glutton

I live in a hole in the ground I share it with a rat and some lice that think they own me we have reached an agreement a compromise about the food I eat from soggy ration packs the lice eat from me the rat will not discuss his cuisine or culinary treasures but I …