Monday, April 13, 2009


Wow almost a month since my last posting! Time flies. This piece, among other things, was written on Good Friday. So look up Inferno Canto 13 (line 34). Christos Anesti! Christ is risen! Go In Peace.

Nascondere is Italian for Obscure.

She chose to pass her days
The Greenway Country Comfort.
Just Behind the Tuggeranong Sports Club.

She chose her end,
On a delightful late autumn;
Typical high pressure system
From out in the roaring Tasman
Afternoon, when there was a
Slight brisk around and all about
In the air; Football weather
Her Father would have said, and the
Planned English planted wide avenues
Of draughtsman inner suburbs flame
Informed a Little Britain.
Goyder Street in Narrabundah,
Majura Avenue in Anslie,
La Perouse St in Red Hill,
Wattle Street in Lynham,
Crunching underfoot acorns.
Crunching underfoot dead dry.

Planted by Edwardian gardeners,
Harvested local old Italian men
Parchment lifeless underfoot.

Uomini fummo, e or siam fatti sterpi.

Yellow red orange brown
Falling and floating artificial
Parchment softly to the ground
Decaying and releasing slowly
Releasing crystal sunlife tears.
New growth mulch and filth aroma
Abubble with spores and microbes.

Drifting deftling dancing the air
Softly slowly silent down
Too weak, too powerless to
Influence; too weak, too scared...
'Che mai non fur vivi'
Never truly alive.
Caught between...
And nothing.

One remarkably attractive
Afternoon, tiny white cap waves
Ruffle lake surface. Flashing police
Light, the speaking crackle,
Amber empty bottles, slow slipping
Drip dropping away.
Slipping away.
Breath by laboured breath.
Beat by slowing beat.
Now ghost.
Now ivory
Now stillness.
Now dark.

1 comment:

ric_man said...

Christos Anesti!