The Poetry Marathon

nowhere road

this must be : our 7000th straight : day on the road : or rather off it : since we’re trying to avoid : the highways, even byways : Ryan thinks : somehow : they’re being monitored : he’s probably right : but all this relentless : creeping cowardly along : slow motion stealth attack : across abandoned paddocks : under cover of trees : is doing my head in

thank the stars : for the cruiser : it goes wherever : we point it : unlike me : who’s almost ready : to lie down it the dirt : let the big wheels : roll over me

a light within

There are few things as startling as encountering an unearthly glow in the wild.

Julia Baird, Phosphorescence

even in deep night now
a wild glow  rises
as an unearthly anti-mist
startling even the stars

things are no longer
as they were  the unholy
alien haze embracing all
like an eternal bushfire

there are so few dark
corners left in the world
encountering yourself
happens alarmingly often

granules

for days i’ve dreamt
of wind, of deserts
of joining the dust
blowing everywhere
pooling in corners
drifting serpentine
in seductive swirls

out of life

shadow hiders

perhaps they hid
behind the shadow of the moon
the shadow of jupiter
shadow of the sun
& though we run

north & south
it won’t be long
not too long i fear
before they find us
they’re always near

can we last another night

Food. or fuel?

the heat’s made us both
victims of lethargy
in the porridge thick air.

we creep along the weary treeline
which only partially masks
our cantankerous presence.

so it’s no surprise
when the zooming anger
arrives bright as a bottle of fireflies

it drives us in opposite directions
me towards the strange cottage;

Ryan continuing to town
lured by the urge of petroluem.

we didn’t even make plans
to meet up again.

perhaps now we never will

Salvador Tyger

Pussycat pussycat fiery bang
Pinetree oak Milky Way oaktree pine
Question mark pirate ghost high five slash goggle eyes
Levitating gemstones cold-headed Munch goes backwards forwards
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{*sometimes you just need a spacer poem}

Season of Dust

It is the season of dust
the season of grit
the season of emptiness
the season of loss

It is the season of dust
the season of the future
the season of despair
the season of silence

It is the season of dust
the season of resistance
the season of flight
the season of moths

the season of finding yourself
in all the seasons all of us have lost

perfect days 

i.

long for a replay
   of a late summer’s day
lonely west coast beach
with the whitest sand
sun slung low in the sky
me  reading some space opera
mum dozing in sunglasses
   even occasionally snoring

Rueben playing sandcastles
   next to her towel
Rueben choraling chuckles
Rueben wandering off
Rueben in trouble
Rueben under the surface
Rueben with salt water
   behind his rib bones

my mother praising me
   instead of hurling abuse
for not taking better
care of my brother (her son)
while babysitting him
didn’t even realise i had to
she was there on the beach
   right there

ii.
— arriving somewhere
            safe
— no need to run
— hiding is built in
— where
            others can decide
— where a mistake
            does not infer
            disaster

— where i can find
            stillness again 

carved heart

never realised
how far the stars
went till i was
forced to sleep
under them
for weeks

— or rather
try to sleep
when really too
scared to dream
for fear of deserts
of orange dust
to drift too far
into the lake of milk

— so trace paths
over our heads
like branches
looking for leaves
waiting for night
to fold up like a brolly
& dawn to fill
the valley with honey

Rueben

Dear little man,
I 100% know
You were holding
Your breath
Deep under
When the dust
Blew us all away
Keep holding
Air in those
Big balloon lungs
I’m coming
To find you

Stella