You sit in a world
of framed, glazed words

crazed by age and patinas passed
down through dust

to the livid surfaces encrusted,
windows, once filled in

by the coloured eye
of living minds

worlds blown and howling,
heaving or bent in quiet civility

buildings, old and threadbare
flag draped, darkly disposed

in forgotten corners, of older worlds
where meadows moan, paddocks slow swaying

with Autumn grass, turning cold
into the folds of mountains

Why did my spine tingle?
Where did my balance go?
There in the glow of evening
I caught the perfume of your soul.

A shape that made my balance jelly
A face that made dreams wonderful reality
Where did you come from I screamed
The scream only felt not heard deep inside

Days floated into seconds I feared the next
That time to leave you, rushed to me
Though each second seemed years
A softness of touch, feelings spreading

Sick of this drugged noir,
this city and myself

for Christmas all I got
was a Raggedy Ann doll
with no mouth
and a taste for TV’s white noise.

This is her hermeticism,
to wake in the ellipse
of drowning, to sleep
in a tired humility.

But I know how easy 
ambition can make you 
shrink and love only
what you know. It’s this heart,
you see, through which bus
windows have lit up 
and carried my eyes away

in the demolition music’s still.

How dare you rape our lands? Enslaved to boundaries? We? Who were born but free.
our noon's ravaged? Assaulted our moons? We? Who were born but free.

Our minds enslaved to technology, materialism and wrecked earthly laws,
to computerized systems? Hijackers? We? Who were born but free.

Enslaved to the past, to the history, to wistful moments,
to skin colors, and to the chairs? We? Who were born but free.

To pretty women enslaved some men, or to cigarettes,
become slaves of drugs, and addicted to alcohol? We? Who were born but free.