The clot of reason
dissipates like jism
coaxed with soap and water:
the polished extinguisher
gloats in its electric bush,
the beak illegal in Tasmania.
The groping frog
spawns mansions:
federation-style,
verandas drooping
like ribs of history,
alone and palely loitering.
Tantrums of declivity
in dance-halls or documentaries
march out in good order ??
true-blue quadrella,
racing to spray
fluid into the arbor.
Ern is of the park, and occasionally further afield. He channels, divines, and is pretty much an open book. He is losing his ambitions.
REVEALED!
As reported on Cordite News Explosion: “We were incredibly surprised and saddened to learn that Ern Malley Jr, who sent us five poems including the bizarrely-titled Gnostic Iron Bird Jism, is in fact John Kinsella.”
