grinning at my isolation i rub my hands in the dust
upon my trembling intuitive arm
showing my hat to the event
i wanna be a
ustraliana

im the ideal state the perfect human
like batsmen made liminal you priests only only think its
irony because you cant face that
there may not be nor ever has been
any mine is a
blanc masterful face
the figure that strode hell swinging
his head by the hair
on church st
down to the bay at night and on the water see reflected
golden lights
b & h and fosters im gonna be a
ustraliana im not gonna be a
n australian idiot welcome
to a new kind of tension
the ends of every hair on my head are blanc hot
i become the shadow which always follows
all batsmen and always precedes them
     day works at its own empire
but the true & actual gods of this earth require no
illumination

i assert my original glory in the dark eclipse
and in this pitch
the sparkle of something baseless and without depth
i emit light just as i carry shadow with me shadow

& everything under the sun is in tune
but _____
one moment of daylight lets me have the
difference between a salad and a diced cow
like a blanc arm thrust
my hat to the event          that
is where i sometimes keep my hair
out of shadows dark & sinister my deception comes
i vary my angles sometimes i am satire sometimes i am sun
with the crack of an outback whip i rise from the wrist
o kestrel there
is cunning certainly there is cunning
but all irony is eliminated there is cunning but there is
no irony & not everyone can be steve monaghetti

it is not the isolation and the occasion that lifts me
i take full responsibility for my action
s every action i have ever taken
whirled in their vortex it gets me wkts
i am pure product
there have never been any indiscretions
the dead tree gives no shelter the cricket no relief
can you hear the sound of hysteria blanc
swan flamingo

es give us our penguins or our pigeons
red nikes & gold ponies
nothing but partnerships
___ it is
not shot
but ill always be a hot shot
4s or 6s ive never been one for lonely singles
you can stick my pink appealing head on a
flamingos body give
us our pigeons      or our pigeons or
our parrots
fear makes them play a blanc shot

whos a pretty polly hot shot
hear the sound of hysteria
disappear in the throng

                   malaga 2005