HOERIKWAGGO* The other side of the mountain is where I come from This side of the mountain is where I came to be The other side of the ocean I found my footsteps This side of the ocean is where I find my feet My side of the sky is big enough for each side Vast and indifferent this mountain sky and sea *The indigenous Khoisan name for Table Mountain, meaning “mountain in the sea” RED EYES The wood duck eyes clouds and branches alive on sky on water while a big red sun rounds his rounded red eyes HEY PRESTO! I put myself in my place: feet on my tip toes, calloused fingers the left hand, right my sad eyes, shut the mouth hole, twitch these skew ears, this nose. I ruffle my feathers, spread my wax wings wide and hey presto! off we go THE CROSSING We’ll cross over the Jordan while there’s breath and while there’s light Cut our harps down from the willows and strum out our delight and there’ll be no foe no stranger no straggler left behind when we cross the muddy Jordan back to the other side IN ITS WAKE The wood duck on the lake leaves no trace in its wake it trails the water THE LAKE Last time I checked the glass half- full was half- empty, the lake half- empty half- full the sun high on the glass surface this fine day half my luck SATURDAY Saturday an old friend comes to town a month of Sundays been around Monday we shoot the boom town down Tuesday girls tippy toe the ground Wednesday AM we gotta run glory bound or hellhound gone Thursday most likely you go your way, Friday I’ve got Saturday on my mind THE CROSSING We’ll cross over the Jordan while there’s breath and while there’s light Cut our harps down from the willows and strum out our delight and there’ll be no foe no stranger no straggler left behind when we cross the muddy Jordan back to the other side DESERTER’S SONG I’m not going some place else any more I’ll stay put this time of love lost to war till you come home dear again if you do I’ll be biding my time waiting for you PEPPERCORN I pay peppercorn rent for my piece of the sky, the sun in its zenith ablaze in my eye, till night closes it and it’s high time again to start over RADIANCE Should the first light fail before I learn how to fly, I seek only, as I fall back on the downward slide up, some radiance, some glimmer in the ever darkening sky THE MOONLIGHT The moonlight that streams inside my window the night before the morning after is also someone’s god seeking to ward off the darkness that must follow the light that trails its shadow to dim the promise of sunshine till tomorrow MY SIDE OF THE SKY I take to the stars when I think no one’s watching I keep my self to myself when alone in a crowd I have no way of knowing if tomorrow will be back I make no promises ask no favours of your gods and masters I have questions that need no answers: I like to think I can keep my side of the bargain to hold up my side of the night sky again RED BANDANNA I listen to the turquoise sound of the city. I’m not afraid to go out and about. Proud in my red bandanna, every greenish scarf that shades these black eyes a coal grey. I carry my blue mask in my back pocket, a blues harp: who knows which way a gust of gold may blow this old town over again ALIGHT The man of yellow dust craves water the man of blue earth craves air the red land man looks to fire, the sun blazing, alight in his wind-blown hair MARIUPOL I heard a bold cry from Mariupol today, trapped in a cold steel and iron cage*, calling to us beneath a fiery leaden sky. And I thought of a mountain- top fortress where some determined to defiantly die, as others under a steelworks may forge their last times. Then I switched channels and tried to look away *The Azovstal Iron and Steel Works where at the time of writing the last fighters and other Ukrainians held out despite Russian calls to surrender THE BACK DOOR All bets are off, son, we’re off to the movies might just catch the start of a last picture show foot on the pedal, son, popcorn and cornettos, it’s about the last man standing in a faraway war, maybe it doesn’t mean too much, maybe nothing much at all, eyes on the road, son, no need to turn back why sweat the small stuff just because there’s dying on some foreign battle- ground and one of us forgot to shut the back door THE OLD HOMETOWN Chipped marble memories, he’s an old grey now. Last glance at a first folly to ever bring him round PRAISE BY NUMBERS One hundred and one poems to recite before we die Fifty three songs to sing a few lousy lines Twenty seven silly jokes to stop a lone cry Twelve sad tunes to sweeten another damn lie A shiny copper coin for each dying eye One glorious red sun rising in a radiant sky COMING BACK Thank my lucky stars for reincarnation. I’ve plenty to do yet: walk the dog, trap a rat, stroke a very lucky cat. I must make amends for spiders spray-canned, say sorry for so much else, I forget. It’s good to know I can come back forever and sort out all of that WATER Sooner or later we may come to a place in this water where creek meets river and neither river nor creek is ever creek or river again TO PHOTOGRAPH a bird in flight you won’t need to want the answer only to ask the question and wait IF I MUST FALL If I fall to my knees when I must fall if I pray for one when I pray for all, oh, shine your light on the black heart of war oh, bless and keep the souls you let soar If I summon your blessings this one time more, would you take my call, would you hear it at all. If I stand where my fathers stood before and would stay on my feet when it’s my turn to fall AS EK MOET VAL - for Hugo As ek op my knieë val wanneer ek moet val As ek vir een bid wanneer ek vir almal bid, o, laat u lig skyn op die swart hart van oorlog O seën en bewaar die siele wat u laat sweef As ek u seëninge vra nog een keer sal u my oproep neem sal u dit enigsins hoor As ek staan waar my vadere eens gestaan het en op my voete wil bly staan wanneer dit my beurt is om te val • translated by Hugo Truter and Larry Schwartz WHIRLING I know that I will find you as I turn to face the east where earth splays its fingers to let the first light through, and I know that I will find you turning to the west where this dark night has another bright day cruelled. * As the earth turns around the sun so I turn about you and, coming to rest, each empty palm in each, which- ever way I face, find myself turning to you WINGLESS We are house guests in this home of birds who stop by to say hello. We have no way to whistle up a flurry or overstay our welcome. Wingless we go when it comes our time to fly IF IT RAINS If it rains if it pours, this sweet old world just can’t hold out anymore, if this earth’s not big enough to contain this river’s flood, these bright stars not bold enough to light up this dark dear night, if our heavens fall oh if our heavens fall, if we wake to unholy war, might we stay and stand our ground if it rains oh if it pours ONCE Once there was a great god almighty and she made all earth and heaven and every single star that lights up our darkness. And this god sang as she made all this and more and made light of her work and delighted in what she saw. Then she made all of woman and from woman all of man and we made war SNAPSHOT - for Neal and Rohan So sorry to say to no-one in particular in next to no time, no time at all, this snapshot boy soon enough was a father and I, in another, his son * and though not so much of consequence remains to be said right now, if at all, I said I’d be back again, and was on my way back when I heard he was gone. * Now I wave as car lights enter the gracious night, wave till my son’s out-stretched arm is out of sight, knowing in next to no time, no time at all, our time will come WARGAMES The war to end all wars is over again. Strangers embrace on streets where love is returned, unscathed by battle. No one is made dead or left maimed again. Soldiers ease into happy homes, families or mass on some border preparing for peace again, or war GOOD GRIEF Good grief is all we’ve got now you’re gone without gusto or the gun in defence of someone no more rage for what may have been done a loving word for a wayward son, you wondering why life took so long, a farewell blessing then we’re done THE GATELESS WAY - for Paul Croucher I heard a flock of angels come crying from a tree and thought some god must love such devils to let them fly so free. To gift them boundless heavens, along the gateless way, as we kneel to beggar a feather they rise to brace their day THE CLOUDY SEA - for Barbara and Jacques Sometime I’ll hitch a pony and sail upon the sea, Meantime these cloudy skies are - blue enough for me, lord, blue enough for me Sometime I’ll swear allegiance to some sacred text or creed Then again I’ll swear an oath to keep my spirit free, good lord, keep my spirit free Sometime I’ll beg a favour from one who pleases me Another time I’ll hitch a pony and sail the cloudy sea, lord, sail the cloudy sea TU FU’S RIVER I guess it must be sometime Sunday out of the heat of us old dogs stumbling, a ceiling fan whirring cool, too lazy for creek walking, flat on my back with Tu Fu’s winding river petals flying, his sorrow whirling me away CREEK EYE This creek water’s an ever shimmering eye that sees an infant swaddled in paperbark, a child fed on wood ducks and yabbies, bulbine lillies, milkmaids, yam daisies and bracken, a fella raised on flesh of speared roos, eels stopped in water ribbon traps and cumbungi, caught now in a passing stranger’s eye REMEMBRANCE Chances are these fine young men would’ve made it through to the bitter end were petals bloodied in the wind bright feathers for flying on home again WHY POETRY It rains (shines) shatters OUD - for Bobby When the peg slips the string unravels, the wine glass shatters, spilling its dark song on you and on me SWEETHEARTS Everybody’s sweetheart is a grandmother now and all the blokes old farts with piss-stained pants and sweet romance on electric air guitars, singing we’ll be so much older when we’re younger than we’re now COMING HOME Since we are here and now and not some place else, Since this place is at least as hallowed as the rest, Since you are beside me now this moment’s no less perfect than the next WHEN WE FLY OUT When we fly out the window through walls that would hold us entombed in things that contain us, fast lives emboldened by bright lights that fade us, a darkness that blinds us, binds us to knowers who know us, false gods that claim us - when we fly out the window, we can’t fall NEW YEAR'S EVE New Year’s Eve you have no shame, all fireworked skies and grog and piss and song, to remind us revellers it won’t be long till, another year’s countless come and gone, you’re back to regale us with the same old same IN HIS SIGHTS If he could see his way clear, he’d touch the edge of heaven where you glide and soar to a bright sun in explosive delight, till the water is bloodied where you fall FOR JESSE Don’t let’s be crying, my beauty, Don’t let us cry at all - Not though the dark may find us, not though the light lets us fall BIRDSONG This last light lingers on from the first cry till we’re almost done, when birdsong sounds through darkness to dawn that the show might go on SOUTH OF THE BORDER We sang up old South of the Border, my truest true lover and I I whispered I’d love her forever - at least till first light lit the sky - But when I awoke to the morning, she’d left me to live with my lie AFTER RYOKAN The thief who left the moon behind, when he stole away from you, thought he might catch a glimpse of it inside the morning dew POSSUM The way is clear the restless night we wake at last inside the dream to clamber up the starry wire into a dark that lights a moon NORTH, SOUTH, EAST OR WEST I will walk beside you on a cold, cold grey day. I’ll reach out for your warmth when it comes my turn to pray. For you I’ll face whatever side you say. I’ll spend my last dollar on some lousy cliche THIS WIND This life no less than first or last to catch a death this wind this breath THE RAZOR LINE 1 We prayed we’d left it in good time to make it over the razor line: last glance at the promised land, all that’s precious on your left hand, all you cherish left behind, no chance we’d be back again. 2 Nobody said so very much except your blue-eyed boy and mine, asking where and when and why and if God stayed up so late and if he really would watch over us BIRDS Then let’s praise each bit of broken heaven that wings its way down to beat the bright sun itself to a beckoning splendour HAPPILY Happily the world is flat again and I can find my feet where I left them on the hard floor. Lord, I’ve got scores to settle, deeds to be done, an old dog to walk a steep hill till it’s flat again and happily we find our way back home GRACE OF DAY When I’m too far gone into the night, not far enough to make it home, what darkening light lets me stay the course? What steadying breath draws me to the dawn? HEART OF COUNTRY When I show my hand I show the country When I show the country I show my heart When I show my heart I show these bits of broken bone, unbroken spirit that I grasp THE CALL What voice in the clamour of silence summons us up from its deep? What calls us again to hear and be heard - some motherless child startled from sleep - What blessed curse is this? THE WEIGHT I carry my head on these two shoulders. I keep both feet below my knees. I wear my heart in my pocket when I don’t need it on my sleeve, and I don’t mind dying much if it’s good for me SOME KIND OF SONG I will come back to haunt me when I am all but gone. I will call myself out for good and for ill. I will find me then playing at some folly: cursing some blessing, seeking an elusive melody for some kind of song NET ZERO Once we held our heavens high and devils crept on dirty feet as each death laughed and cried inside its corner. Now saints and sinners hand in hand go footloose on the golden sand, as fools like us make merry ever after NOTHING AGAIN Doubled down in troubled times, ask no questions tell no lies Fortune takes us where and when: nothing till we’re nothing again ALL I ASK A wing and a prayer is all I ask if half a chance is half the cost I hope it takes to spend an eternal now and then with you TIME i.m Charlie Watts Time is on our side in fits and starts we hold it close as shards of glass in bits and pieces in broken hearts it skips a beat and lets us pass WINGS Let’s just say we have the gift of the gab: words to talk up a storm, talk a game, talk too soon - clipped wings that somehow let us soar IN ITS WAKE The wood duck on the lake leaves no trace in its wake it trails the water EVERMORE Where I am is where I stand and where I stand is where I fall till I stand just where I am and fall for ever more FEATHERING What yellow gold crest dare strut this rust only ever to leap - a sudden ruffled puff of lemon-tinged white - unfurling its wingspan to trail every raucous squawk that ever framed this cloudless sky FINGERS Cold dark night safe in bed a world of woe overhead counting my lucky stars with my fingers TRACES This is what the night looks like now that the night is over This is what the day has come to now that the day is done This is the way the moon skims its trace across the ocean while earth tilts in darkness against the sun: These are times to keep both hands inside your pockets, your features masked, and if you care don’t tell anyone SNAPSHOTS So we work our way backwards - burying times to birth - white-blonde to grey, frailty drained of fight: why rage against the last light when it flickers with the first GONE I’ve got plenty of practice at being long gone I’ve been gone and gone and gone so long I don’t need to be told that there’s no-one home I don’t need to know there is no home until you find it AWAKENING The light that dims your blue eyes tonight is the light of heaven The bright light of heaven is the dark light of the sun that rises in your blue eyes now your night is done BLUE HEAVEN This bird this petty pecker just a bit of flight and pretty feather tumbles turns and glides where we stumble up it soars in some blue heaven WHAT MATTERS This is what it really is This is what it’s all about This is why they say what they say when they say it really matters ON THIS DAY On this day I have my life before me On this day my day is done On this day my sun is rising On this day night comes on On this day my story’s ended On this day not yet begun CURRAWONG Black metallic ink dipped in white sheen whose bright yellows spy us cowering he sweeps us up in sweet song: such melody shreds our dreams it shatters this warm corpse land SWEET HEAVEN Some place this side of sweet heaven some time in between, might as well jump for joy as fall down on broken knees. Devils rage in the face of false gods and all is all it seems SECRET O’LIFE Somehow I’m sure it all makes perfect sense to someone somewhere at least I suppose it just might sometimes who knows JOY Cart- wheeling we arc across this lucky old sun TALK IS CHEAP Talk is cheap, I should know I heard it on a radio (someone played a song I might have known) Talk is cheap five-for-four, I found it in a discount store (someone tricked a string up in a bow) Talk is cheap, when you play for keeps and life and death is all you’ve got to show HOMECOMING for R Mountain clouds trail pine forest paths to places I come from river red gum flank the ancient green creek up ahead; I wander on charred desert, snow my people have traipsed in time continents adrift: the depth of a deep longing is only ever to be right here with you HOUSE OF BIRDS In this house of birds we are the ones cooped up: our distances are bound up in earth’s confines: our petty crime - these awkward arms - won’t let us fly: until these fingers spread the wings behind the eyes as the spaces between bars on a cage open up to the skies FIRST LIGHT The poet of the blue skies wakes in the morning when the sun’s not yet risen and grey skies are still black The night is aflame with the tired eyes of heaven and dark sleep dark sleep’s forever calling him back EVERY EVER AFTER Then let’s get all the grieving done with The first cry out from the womb - For us there is no easy, easy answer - For each one birthed is gone again In fire or water earth or into the wind You and I so soon or some time later Then let us laugh and laugh Out loud for every ever, ever after EVERYTHING Everything is forever nothing passes nothing fades: no one is undone Not today not now not ever again. Praise the dead Praise the dying praise the setting sun. This day almost Ended: Somewhere in this big old world another has begun THESE DUCKS 1 These ducks unbothered though clocks click back and forth a last lucky hour in some green song 2 The blue bike groans beneath my vast bulk kerchunk kerchunk these gear changes with or without you SONG We are priests of nothingness* Who walk the sacred earth we bless in Each hand an emptiness. Let dirty death come courting, All dressed up in his finery Heaven and Hell at his fingertips, Pleasure and, oh, pain a flick of the Wrist, we will not falter, we Step up airily this is our Promise: this is our song *A reference to wandering Buddhist monks known as the komuso, who use music for spiritual practice, playing the flute-like shakuhachi for enlightenment and healing and known as the Zen Priests of Nothingness. A GALAH IN COUNTY CORK* There’s a fleck of pink-grey over Ballycotton these days, winging over white sand to Knockadoon Head Folks come to dine way out at Ballymaloe might swallow hard on a sudden harsh screech She’s a rose-breasted cockatoo from a faraway southland, a long way from magpies, currawong and lorikeets A stranger to Rebel County’s black-tailed godwit, black-headed gull, black kite or red-necked stints. Some say she stowed on a jet plane from Tulla. Come to peck at the limestone Blarney or Careen over a port where immigrants sailed for skies that are blue-grey and some birds are pink. *for Colleen in Dublin who alerted me to a report on a pink galah sighted near Ballycotton A PERFECT PICTURE I found a perfect picture and put it on a page - the Better to admire - blue fairy-wren in a red gum - the beauty that I made But the cruel bird would not stay and the tree bent out of Shape and the solid earth that spins beneath my feet put me in my place BECAUSE Because we have wings we can fly bright youth to shield us from a merciless eye, dull age to dim that golden lie: Because we have joy we have sorrow Because we are broken made whole again wings can surely let us fall - nothing till we lose it all - bear us each on up once more. Because we have this day we have tomorrow DON'T LET ME Don’t let me be dead on a Monday hat in my hand flat on my feet Tuesday I have a prior appointment with my thief Wednesday’s no good I’m picking at songs of joy and peace Thursday I’ll be snug in bed with a book for sweet relief Friday’s out: I’m off to the pub at the end of a working week Saturday I’m racing my old blue bike down along the creek Sunday I’ll have something better to do or someone better to meet THE FLASH BIRDS for R Let the flash birds fly west this summer - galahs, corella, crested pigeons these cheeky-bright lorikeets too Let their wingspan sprawl east over winter - razor-eyed currawong, magpies, crazy-mouthed cockatoos Let them fly north to dark autumn; springtime light south if they choose. Let them dare all their dear heavens Who gives a damn if their sun sets east or west, darling, I’m still over the moon with you PARTNERS IN CRIME As I went out walking my partner in crime, I said Who’s going to hang these old bones out to dry? And what’s the use living if it’s only to die? And who can tell what’s on the other side? Then my dear old faithful turned a sorrowing eye and Sniffing and piddling this he replied: HOW TO HOST A HOAX POET Treat him to a seat at the top of the heap with Razor knife and rounded spoon, soft candlelight, Blood wine to spill on starched white - Platted loaf to staunch these salt wounds Feed him well: let him eat his famous last words THE BINDING Once he was his father’s son sure to smack the idols down Surely surely one by one and when the pretty deed Was done, up the hill and down we come In Gaza or Jerusalem Armenia or Azerbaijan Ladakh or Aksai Chin With bloodied hands we blood our young THE NET - for Robert Adamson In copperplate his fine hand it reels his lines in until they too trail their blood on his clean dark waters WINNOWING To live and learn a little we pound the hard grain The staff of life is losing the stuff this wind betrays Larry Schwartz © THE PILGRIM She makes her move by inches only Takes a hard look at sixes and sevens she Savours a dark fruit this bitter route She swears it is sublime BODHI (AWAKENING) So what if this Hell’s Not all it’s cracked Up to be - This Heaven Never more than an Eternity - while We all wheel about an old fig tree until All’s done and dusted MY MASK I’m learning to love my mask Don’t need to smile or say I did or do Just nod or not I never Could mask my love for you IN SPADES Speaking of which since you mentioned it Something you said in the quick of the moment The heat of some time ago Once upon a time. Say it again Say it right now speak your dark truth Light your damned lie spirit it out Sing it from the back of the throat Depth of deep hollow the sad and joyful heart This fierce blood Say it in spades THE GOOD OLD Don’t say the good old is good and gone We’re falling through these cracks of light alone Just you me and the rest of mankind Dancing with flame again playing with fire CIVIL WAR When I get back from a civil war spend my fortune on a blues guitar to serenade a girl next door play things “exactly as they are” ring of coal palace of straw strum it happily ever more If we do get back from a civil war THE CROWN Fortunately the worst is over Or maybe yet to come We stood our ground we stood apart No one spoke to not one Some fool lit up an acrid song Sweet melody flickered its dark No one said one damned thing - Right or wrong - not one Fortunately we’re almost done then The worst surely over or Better yet to come LEARNING TO FLY Levitation is fun til the doorbell rings and you must come down Without scraping your wings on these four walls, bruising your pride But there’s no one there not a soul in the wind So you get yourself up Deep breath in deeper out learning to fly FIREWORKS I don’t need to watch your fireworks light up my TV I just want to feel It rain To heal this scorching country and raise her whole again THE PLEDGE Come lie with me and be my blood Until this st prove Though shepherd and his one true love Be bruised or ever broken- hearted Each bit of breath it takes renews its splendour FIREWORKS I don’t need to watch your fireworks blaze. I just want to see it rain To heal this scorching country and raise her whole again DEJA VU Call it premonition I’ll tell you what I’ll do: celebrate a brand new year a day or so too soon; as if to see the old year out all over again with you SURELY It’s got a mind all it’s own this poem I say I make it wanders surely where it won’t ALMOST Almost got your number Almost spoke your name Almost cut your key Almost broke these chains Almost said my piece Almost told it true Almost called you up ‘Till I got through to you THE DANCE Better be down in a ditch some fine day High as the straw man feet cold as clay Heart to heel heel to heart. The jig isn’t up ‘til it’s over BODHI (AWAKENING) So what if this Hell’s Not all it’s cracked Up to be - This Heaven Never more than an Eternity - while We all wheel About an old fig tree until All’s done and dusted EGG PRAYER Oh lord please don’t let me break me break you
Larry Schwartz Writer 