By | 1 November 2016

(descriptive-noun): a whip-crack orchestra of air conducted by a landing airplane

at the heart of Sydenham
an ode to the misplaced
large red couch mosaic tea-pot lampshade
a kind of
we have built what we have taken
a slap in the face?

a win at least for the pigeons
upon electric wires
admiring the perfect C
burnt by a car into the grass

where so much depends upon an Ibis
or two longnecks on a green bench


the Marrickville Pause
from Tahiti Maui connecting from LA
from New York from London
from the cracked pavement by which we exist
as a CONFINED SPACE reveals
tunnel upon tunnel
and an Illawarra train accelerates
into cumbia dancing out a café’s doors
in Atacama de Chile
where between songs
we heard the loudest sound of nothing
saw the dry red earth white-salted
like a great vista of steak another concept of death
the world perceived at 10am
through the bottom of schooners
at the General Gordon Hotel


through this Giraffe ODYSSEY
a Virgin cuts the camembert sky blue
and ‘a politician will always be
a politician’ he tells me

the day’s trains
due north
and from the east i walk from sleep
into a dream of the orient
smoke billowing
from a Marrickville factory
like an industrial warehouse lets waste slip
into the Yangtze
or the sky over Sydney
CBD protruding post-card perfect
even sketched

the morning light upon brown tracks
while up and down the platform
people drift like plastic bags
in an ocean of warm stability
waiting to board yet another absent desire
to separate the self
from its commodity
or petition the elite
to a discontinuation of the myth

when the world has become
an escape from the world
another object held in the hand
given to the brush of a finger
with nothing to believe in


the slippery wind of another jet
whipping the Sydenham sky
into repose

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