Charles Buckmaster 1951-1972
a variation of waiting nothing
and the day
it is darker now
Woodstock. Gruyere. (Willochra)
abolished bastards of the trap
a presence appears like a snare
apparitions are hallucinogenic pulses
the seed of god planted in the earth
but a disturbance….
the true nature of this fear?
brooding in its decayed
an isolation (not limited to poets).
of the WOMB destructive births
WHITE WHALE COMING
great voiceless creature
we fled the city, belly
of the white whale filled
crushed grasses, grey buildings
I visited your house
… the school in Lilydale
couldnt find the broken poet
his aging disciple had stopped writing/
… it is through leaving that our lives
begin to take form and enter full flight
writing poems across our skulls we
drink death, a kind of sweet wine.
To a Dead Poet
1 June 2014