White Noise in Passing
Strangers to ever-effervescence
the ear shot inner ring...
always brings about wonder
having heard the earth purrs and strokes
never heard screams... mores only have
an unescorted stress
rather our skin’s goosebumps
bare feet-space reflexive on soft sand
all can diminish on busy-built streets
passed by as musical ringtones...
ever bless,
complement... compete
advice shines and flashes in shock neon
prepares and marks
when sun and moon cycles -
it’s price rising or downsizing
are calculus…
authority is linearity?
whoever erected monument traffic lights
sabres halting light years
of endlessly celestial; night sky?
—————
tiny infants sleeping flatbed
matt pink walls... darker dots
are fabrication...displays polka’d
transitioning... ‘what will you be’...
back spines glow in caring touch...
holding comfort measures…
in flesh-shivers rebounds... so generously
unassuming
in the main part of the house
ma’s bath hot water hums
her kettle ignites, cracks...alive...
the dawn is added to with slightly
monotonous pronunciation
in every grow...ing...sizzle
2.00 - 4.00am the iron grizzlies
hiss... ‘vrooms’ vac...replace...
drown out the driverless pacing
vanity...is vanilla milk and cosmetics
the manuals for etiquettes...
the need for facelifts...en mass
lost for words... and why the sound
named after toner shades...
those lightning tints -
what is ‘a given’
ever-changing spark
an idea of colour?
Black Dots
once hidden
isolation grounds
what matters …
- humble dots
belong to a lighter
mood
gentleness is sweet
abandons sure things
again delicately
unassuming
flights of love
strength grows
needless of proof
or need to purchase
lone florals
shooting upwards
in early dew fall
indigo blue flash
ambush white
ambiguous
ambulatory black dots
many uncertain ways
motivate course and effect
definitely cast a net
over fisherfolk terms
unashamedly catches
a will-sharing wisp
treasuring meantime’s
monotonous beats
no fences
to cloak word’s perfume
or escape
a full
round stop
Time-Travelling Pension Friday
(Recurring Traumas Stroll Through An Afternoon Mind)
Wherever past persecutory footsteps shape our lives...
this present walker having said,
witnesses the redirected pathways
in the quietest of hours
often they pace outside my room
niggle lite; the rub of woollen garb
felt in the real world...left dry
in field-spun vertigo for weeks and days
leaves some crude fluffed remains
sighing into pictures of screw-press
and veiniest petal ...stays in the fabric
nowadays ...dried poses ...
mostly are still-grown ideas …
forwards…stillness procrastinates
over a birth, its life and deafening death
whither their forgotten rebirth
temporality... the officious historical
mainstream conquest, a mainstay’s common outrage
uses extracts from paperless piecemeal
fucks fixed mindsets...the slow itch
scratching out the former follies ... essential
has credence floats and preserves
a potent presence and followers can force it
to the top heavy selfishness on ... ‘an onward soldier’?
paced by the many headwinds
human making is tossed and blown...
ageless agency
misplaced...unowned?
likened to windswept amnesias which about face on lies ...
crinkle and shrink and trusting survives in the reread air…
thoughts bookmarked, turns up cornerstones pages...
electronic versions decompose
as if...wayside said rubbish heaps ...theirs the co-opt genres, formulas...
post designers manufacture... the maple leaf mats pattern an old ‘Babel’ ...
we can resist those out of fashioned remakes
and tastes which make a sum of us
———————
watery daydreaming about and visceral
telling sandy ocean grounds
silted with sparkled powder
turning over, lights the talc... textures puff ...the star-stone sinkers...
their vacuous mineralogy reminds me
of an oldie after-thought or perhaps a piece of past...
once were earthly sodden, deeply ingrained and embodied ...
altering the hidden stuff that doesn’t sift...is like the butterflies...
in short ...it rests
sorting the obvious partiality,
the placebos are those sinking stones
turning to powder, though, once out in the sun...
are now leftover gems, which could afford
to float...then wash up on moonshine tide
bestselling message...is bottled up
—————————-
the night queen maya...chases a ‘me’
so often feels, on this one journey
as rebounded guilt
her inquisitiveness inks ‘am’ lived letters
love lures, spots those familiar mysterious
finds... listening landscapes
in morning’s light, keepsakes reference in midden books
those ‘who’ floral sprigs once left behind
on gnarly wooden tables or ground sheet picnic mats
...glad to be rearranged...in the contemporary seams ...
written about in crazy vase proses sequence
my collage try out thinking
————————
we have picked wildflowers together
in timeliness lost... feels infinitesimal
smiley pleasures, shared gathering
flotsam notes...
revised ...are taken at face value where awareness knows
how fearsome past can fashion our passions into darknesses
now... fresh blooms still life on this winter penny wort sill …
fresh dew wordy ...flesh warm in the break of day
Chae Paterson - Born in Melbourne in 1952, Chae, after a difficult childhood, became a mature age student and sole parent in her thirties, achieving a BA Hons. But discontinuing a later MA due to pressure of circumstances. After a short career as a singer and performer, Chae turned to poetry after attending numerous writer’s groups. She recently moved with husband Geoff to Venus Bay, Victoria, in Bunurong/Kurnai Country with two dogs and a swag of poems.
No comments:
Post a Comment