AUSTRALIA DAY
I stare blankly
at the empty space.
Yoga is closed –
a public holiday I never celebrate,
it makes me scratchy
in my throat.
I am but a grain
of white sand peppered
on this red land,
a single white star
of a southern cross tattooed
over scars and names,
a tiny piece of tabula rasa
after thousands of years of
black history.
WHERE ONCE A FOREST
between the wild and the new
the lakeshore
is contained within
a wall of boulders on one side
a metal ramp on the other
echo of the past
native and brought
gum trees a kind of pine
coral trees jacarandas
green orange purple
splash at the sky
some lean to the side heavily
their roots a fish
half out of water gasp for
simpler days
away from the road rage
weekend walkers
soak up sunny moments
lizards dart
under the man-made rocks
birds sit
ignore birdwatchers
a blend of eucalypt
and car fumes some flowers’
sickly sweetness
hangs in the air
next to glossy
waterfront mansions
and here
we stand many and alone
under the trees
between the boulders
and the ramp
and this
thing called life
goes on
AN ODE TO REST
in my yard the red blooms of the Flame tree
perch in the blue air
my hammock wraps me in a cocoon
rocks me to surrender
back in the house the e-mails and bills wait
I am drunk on the clear skies
I stroke the white velvet of my cat’s back
eyes half-closed
his gaze steady and far away
a little sphinx
he’s got this thing all figured out
I think light blue thoughts
juicy green dreams slowly
bloom
some say
metamorphosis takes hard work
on a day like this I think
it takes nothing
but time
