You Yangs and Diving Boards

1 May 2014

Waves, gravitational
mind-mussings teem,

plunge for the jewel
in the clouds and hit clean.

Car-roar obvious,
Where can it bring?

You Yangs are slumbering,
no slumbering thing.

Refineries, youths
to the ultramarine

excite to become what they thought
they could beam –

low-lidded cirrus,
a hole in a dream

sucked from the slumberer’s
chimney-staked sheen.

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