Five Poems by Mark Young

 

Directly South of the City 

 

It's such a weird place —  

think hand-crafted mosaic  

crosses done in sophisti- 

cated shades of pink, white,  

& brown. It's slightly dis- 

gusting — think Tab Hunter  

playing at being macho. It's  

a long-term proposition &  

many simply lose interest  

after a few years — think 

17-year-old clarinet players.

  

 

 

Planespotting 

 

Ensconced in my regular position  

on the back step I watch a Boeing  

7whatever7 with its serious wing- 

span circle widdershins then head  

off towards New Zealand.  A minute 

later, at right angles to it, a smaller  

version of the same aircraft method- 

ically follows the highway south as if 

this was where the pilot learnt to drive 

& fly, & so tends to stick with it.  In the  

distance another plane climbs steadily  

without deviation & disappears in the 

direction of Western Australia. & all 

day, all night, various small propeller- 

driven craft pass overhead to & from  

their way to the airport at Bankstown  

which has the largest number of take- 

offs & landings of any airport in the 

land. I’m at the crossroads here,  

just as if I was sitting outside that  

café in Paris where everybody will  

eventually pass by.  Here I mightn’t  

see anybody I know, but I think I'll  

soon have seen nearly every aero- 

plane made anywhere in the world.

 

Breakdance 

 

Nobody is giving out prizes 

for getting the answer 

wrong. Sometimes a tree 

breaks out into a 

short series of dance steps 

that coincide exactly 

with the clicks the earth makes 

as it cools. Nobody 

is getting younger despite 

the tuck-lines. Everybody 

thinks they're Fred Astaire.

 

 

Linaria cannabina 

 

I walk out the door to a 

teppanyaki dawn. The 

sky is full of non sequiturs, 

arguing among themselves 

as to what comes next. X 

marks the spot, Spot marks 

her spot with a stream of 

urine. You're in line for a 

 

soaking if you don't know 

the song the linnet is sing- 

ing, something about its 

fondness for hemp seeds. 

Signs in the tynes, perhaps, 

or maybe tongs on the bongs.

 

 

Choices 

 

He took 

to visiting 

other people 

 

since he could 

never find any- 

thing inside 

 

himself to 

make intro- 

spection 

 

worth the 

effort. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mark Young was born in Aotearoa / New Zealand but now lives in a small town in North Queensland in Australia. He has been publishing poetry for over sixty-five years, & is the author of around seventy-five books, primarily text poetry but also including speculative fiction, vispo, non-fiction, & art history. His most recent books are the downloadable pdf, Closed Environment, from Neo-Mimeo Editions, Nualláin House, Monte Rio, California, & The Complete Post Person Poems, from Sandy Press, Santa Barbara, California, both published in March, 2025.