The sound of black

'clockwise is off'

in this convalescence — good word that with itsgauze-like length and syllabic wrap — been

practicing that lost art of waiting, bus andtrain stations, doctors' rooms, never enough

shade or new New Ideas, been watching,the wizened and the upright, figs ripening,

footpaths that flow like prose then trip likemisspellings, been rubbing paperbark trees,

listening in on frogs, been mulling over thedifference between learned and remembered,

the venn intersects, making a mantraof 'clockwise is off' while pondering the

origin of knowns, the mind that didthe choosing, hands that shape our days

old stones

you'll go on ahead.you'll tie the laces on thesky. you'll brill the moon.

I'll bring up the rear.I'll find old stones filled with pock-ets. I'll tear my thoughts.

the sound of black

I understand the meaningof her silence but don't havea word for it so I scournight sky for a term for thesound of black between starsand moon and meteorites andplanets and us and come upwith 'evol' and write itdown and then show it to her andshe says 'is that the root ofevolve like before stuffmoves or morphs?' and I say'no, it's love backwards' and shestares at me and says nothing

the humming insect

faint tickle amongst leaves. one bird insistent. one large flyinghumming insect not seen yet. something like hope being questioned.something like doubt seeking a friend. breeze strengthens. branches sway.

no ants on the table. so many greens. nothing like it was. washedclean after rain. damp and verdant. you can't tell me. grey in thegreen covering the slopes. won't let me in. used to be ants on

the table. hope is a promise. at least one ant. made to yourself.hope is a painting. the blue wrens skipping. take nothing home. words to

page are easy. sunshine dappling. words off lips not so. could sleephere. rustling. one kookaburra laughing. almost. the drab tuarts.everything stopping. hope has momentum. hope draws lines. when we

get there. 'sort out my own problems first.' sun behind cloud. your words.cloud silky. your hope. mine is like rice paper. a blowfly. thehumming insect. holding. edible. hand in hand. leaves lie unread.