Larry’s Party

I’m in the middle of Larry’s party sitting in the backyard. Pink from a morning at the beach. Buzzed from three glasses of wine. Cricket is droning from the back room TV, there’s a squeaking from a palm rubbing against the pergola, far distant roll of trucks and cars on the nearby highway all overlaid by the waves brushing noise that the Fremantle Doctor brings into the backyard. Like the ringing n your ears. That sound of the wind has always sounded the loudest to me.

Sitting in the creek with the Sheoaks crumbling above me. Or sheltering in the Mort trees, a silent spot away from the garble of afternoon drinks at the tennis club.

Where are all the guests?

grass fires

desire sensuality complexity bodies

meeting sacred space. The closeness

of bodies familiarity and truth.

Word heavy and meaninglessness

risky extinguishment

embers suffocated by wet leaves and

grass fires contained smoke and smoke

plain fires fast and rapid heat

doesn’t burn so hot for scars

Frisson

Reflective skin, black, blue

A wide back engulfing

arms

Lips that swallow mine

And that kiss my eyes into darkness

Skip across spare skin

Closed Doors

So you listen behind closed doors to bad news and rumbling discontent? Waiting for the rain. The low pressure builds and grey clouds storm the horizon. A flash and explosion announces the rain, big drops, each one you could drown in. (And the voices fade behind the noise) Sitting across the table and tears roll down and I swipe them away with the back of my hand. Drenched in salt. The rain fills the gutters adn my ears pound with the silence the rain brings. All I hear behind the hollow cheap door that breaks up the asbestos walls is quiet mumblings and promises of Christmas presents which I’ve already searched for in the bottom and the top of the giant heavy dark wardrobe. But when I slide between them at night chased from my bed from a nightmare the emptiness and the space between is cold. The Van Gough replica on the wall haunts me – those cold stars making the cafe seats on a Parisian night oh so lonely.

Peppy Trees

Flexuosa

Cape Lilac

Roses and Grandma

Keep your distance

Mark your boundaries

I miss my Dad

A solid wall to lean on

Keep me in line

with truth telling and with goodness

I love newness

Seeing things sometimes old from a new angle

For Billie

Swing the door let me in

See what makes your eyes shine

Your feet turn on the world spinning

your quiet smile making me sigh

If I want to make it last on forever

Will you have to hold it secret inside

If you tell me will the mystery fade

Share it with me I won’t tell a soul

We’ll keep this thing of ours alive

That world we’ll make it turn, keep that door open