Meandering Shelters

selling packing the house - delving with lawyers and banks and agents and all sorts - it's a bourgeois town. got a copy of 'The Golden Bough' for the trip. so we are almost there - just a few days to go.
this is, like all poetry, an autobiography. the last few days in a few lines.

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I - Rex Nemorensis

Early Morning
Patty cakes &
Car tunes
    Slight aroma
    Burnt edge
    Burnt toast
    Butter Honey
        Thick rich scent
        Coffee's on 
        Blurry growl
        Opens her eyes
        Closes her eyes

Kookaburra sings
Chattering braying jackass 
She holds enfolds the snake 
The serpent in her strong beak
Breaking bones upon the branch

Deep dewdrop night
The trees show 
The first blush
Of autumn

Butterflies spread
Their wings 
Warming
Themselves

Chauntering 
Chattering 
Singsonging
Obsessions

The dog sits
East West Axis
Sphinx wise

EMERGENCY ISSUE RESCUE FLAGGED

No scanning of prison staff
And they are calling all the time
To see if we are okay

II - Laughter none

Puddles of bubbles and sinks
Of slops of last nights stew

Dreamy blue sky 
King of the wood
Runaway slave
The mirror lake
Mortal combat
Forest husband

The purple bloom of Iola
The crimson crush of rose petal
Spilt blood and fleeting beauty
Point to an ancient 
To a deep sorrow

A sad philosophy
Goods of the spindle

III - Violet Stained Dawn


Admixture is more everyday than Purity
Purity is blockage a dead end
The way of death constriction
A closure a resolution
    Purity is a narrowing
    Purity is delusion
Admixture is the everyday
The contact which brings 
Renewal

Thin clear night wine stars electric sky
Sparkling

Overnight 
High Pressure System
Clear clear jet clear
The earth gives up heat

The hollowed out immature dragonfly
Hangs Christlike across the fine
Lines of the spider dew drop web
Early morning low angled sun
Refracts the drops of water
Forming spherical rainbows
Around and about the corpse
    Regeneration
Allowing the spider
To live another day

The light and the water mix
And rise and form a billowing
Blanket over the creek

The night time gentle weeps
The crimes of day light.