Sunday, October 6, 2013

In Sydney -07/10/2013


From an old friend I bump into 
outside a vegan ink tattooist 
that I end up chewing over 
poetry's poverty with
here on King Street
for half an hour

to the kid 
missing both legs
and an arm,
in a wheelchair
getting off the train 
at Redfern station,

to the endless and space-less
parked car streets
detouring you into miles
of hyper-privileged 

to my friend's broom closet
cum backyard
and it's procrastinating
work in progress
sitting planks between
modern art and permaculture,

to one way traffic 
that always catches you
looking the wrong way,

that skyline of Christmas jewelry infernal
that smiles at your provincialism
that makes short stories long
that makes you want to stay
that hole you want to fill
that makes less sense than a love letter
to a one night stand
that naive need for a final epic poem
that hugs this impossible place
that can't emerge because this muse
that won't sit still for your story
that is not supposed to end

this strange big-city hospitality
flying in the grumpy face of anyone
who wants to talk about rat races
and urban isolationism

this big-titted town is to me
what yellow-sun is to Superman

feeling recharge in my cells
flat out of Melbourne
rise above the clouds
for less than an hour
and I'm back

in Sydney.




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