TURN TO 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
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
WAR GAMES
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
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
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
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
WAR GAMES
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
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
When
the peg
slips
the string
unravels,
the
wine
glass shatters,
spilling its
dark
song on
you
and
on me
- for Bobby
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
BECKONING
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
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
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
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
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
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
- for R
HOUSE OF BIRDS
In this house
of birds
we are the ones cooped
up: our
distances
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
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 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 Murrell 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
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
- For R
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
In copperplate
his fine
hand it
reels his
lines in
until
they too
trail their
blood on
clean
dark
waters
- for Robert Adamson
WINNOWING
To live and learn
a little
we pound
the hard grain
The staff of life
is losing
the stuff
this wind betrays
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
OLD FIG TREE
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
no 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
When there’s no one there
not a soul in the wind
You get yourself up
Deep breath in
deeper breath out
learning to fly
THE PLEDGE
Come lie with me
and be
my blood
Until this stubborn
joy we’ll
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
light up my TV
I just want to feel
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
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
THE WHEEL (draft)
So what if
Hell’s all it’s
cracked up to be
And Heaven’s
some
exclusive Destiny
For the few
who subscribe
to a litany
While others wheel
about
a Bodhi Tree
Until we’re all
done and dusted
******************************************
WAR GAMES
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
SNAPSHOTS
- 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
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
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
When
the peg
slips
the string
unravels,
the
wine
glass shatters,
spilling its
dark
song on
you
and
on me
- for Bobby
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
Larry Schwartz ©
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
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
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
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
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
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
- for R
HOUSE OF BIRDS
In this house
of birds
we are the ones cooped
up: our
distances
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 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 Murrell 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
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
For R
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
In copperplate
his fine
hand it
reels his
lines in
until
they too
trail their
blood on
clean
dark
waters
- for Robert Adamson
Winnowing
To live and learn
a little
we pound
the hard grain
The staff of life
is losing
the stuff
this wind betrays
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
no 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
When there’s no one there
not a soul in the wind
You get yourself up
Deep breath in
deeper breath out
learning to fly
THE PLEDGE
Come lie with me
and be
my blood
Until this stubborn
joy we’ll
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
light up my TV
I just want to feel
It rain
To heal this scorching
country and raise
her whole again
Déjà 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
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
‘Til 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
The Wheel
So what if
Hell’s all it’s
cracked up to be
And Heaven’s
some
exclusive Destiny
For the few
who subscribe
to a litany
While others wheel
about
a Bodhi Tree
Until we’re all
done and dusted
Larry Schwartz Writer 