posted on September 9, 2006 at 10:48 pm

bells ring
pavements still wet
fronds of palms blown down
silence in suburbia
no creature stirs
birds still
violent clouds loom and threaten
8 52 is ushered in on a cushion of moments
celestial geometries drone
sticky tape loses its adhesion
pictures and memos droop
feet feel miles away
my tinnitus jams with the oophoi
festible of the winds is on says aurora
the festible of the winds i repeat
she nods yeah
baby meanwhile has turned into child
my green tea and m honey gets cold
i woke up this morning with this blog title in my head
“he who hesitates is lois”
i thought i could write something about supermen
and then i thought
seeing simon and garfucknuckle get mentioned here a bit
of a blog called
minnie, baby and sunday drivers
but that too, failed to materialise
palm trees moving delicate fingers against palest blue sky
a tender damaged blue sky
tentative and scared of the storm
my computer rests on top of my pastel box
im drowning in books n cds n bits of art junk
its an awful mess
it isnt bohemian or groovy
its just an awful mess
im cold
my extremities are freezing
another title i thought of was
bonnie prince charlatan
im certainly a title generator
need a title?
im your man
a title in itself im not entitled to
but otherwise
9 06 has been reached
pinch myself im still alive
we should be on by now
my world telescopes inward
come with me
im shrinking down inside myself
im falling down the rabbit hole
memories on the walls enframed
lazily reach for one as we glide past
its canberra 1964
we have just moved there
we are having venetian blinds fitted
the man fitting the blinds is welsh
he has a soft lilting tone
when he hears that we are new to canberra
he gives my mother some tips on taking the back streets
driving me to the swimming pool
“youll need to go up archibald
until you hit dryandra and then all the
way down until you come to froggart street…”
the way he said the names of the streets
and his sing song tone drives me into a trance
i want him to go on speaking forever
im starting to slide somewhere else
if you can see me there
its almost christmas
ive moved into this red brick house
in a city i never even been to before
we’re right on the edge of the bush
its hot
its dry
i dont know a soul
theres some kids in this street
but i dont really like the look of em that much
theres a park behind our house full of dry long yellow grass
theres a hawthorn tree in the back yard, which is very big
but full of rocks n stones n weeds n dirt
theres ants nests everywhere
my mum at this stage could only have been 36-37
shes standing there in her red mu mu skirt and her hair do
my brother a quiet blond mop of hair
wants to go to the pool too i suppose
the welsh man runs through the directions again
and me and mum follow his finger on the map
” you see
you need to take archibald up to dryandra…”
i wonder how this mans voice produced this effect
was he a magician
if hes still alive now
he would be very very old
i can still see him and hear him
later on that very hot day
mum kindly took me and my little brother to the pool
it was quite an adventure
dryandra street was long and windy
across the road was bush
the unknown
eventually we follow the instructions to canberras pool
my brother and mother go to baby pool
i feel lonely and exposed
another skinny freckly kid with no friends
at a crowded swimming pool in canberra australia
a voice in me says
hey youre not even australian
you should be in some groovy english glade
a real fish out of water
i couldnt even dive properly
i see a girl diving in and out like an otter
and it makes me feel even more sad
shes really pretty too
and has loads of friends
i swim over in their direction
but i feel unwelcome wherever i am
i climb up into the diving tower
but im too chicken to jump off the high one
in fact in all my time in canberra
i’ll never pluck up the courage to jump off that one
later on on the lawn
mr tambourine man comes on the radio
a lotta people lying round with the radio playing
theres only one station 2CA so no problem
mr tambourine man
oh the lyrics
oh the guitars
oh the strangely detached singer singing it
the voice who was complaining about australia
now heres something for you steven
something going on here that you could unravel
im sitting here in 1964 december
my mums got these amazing sun glasses on
russells splashing round in the baby pool like a pro
im sitting there getting sunburnt again
i feel fine by the beatles comes on
the first use of feedback they say
it sounded huge coming out of some crackly pa system
i was chewing on a peppermint and chocolate toffee
called a bobby
and eating licorice cigarettes

im so glad shes my little girl
shes so glad shes telling all the world

it sounded like proust in 1964
leave me
sitting there on that crowded lawn
soon to pile into the austin A40
chug home
though it didnt feel like home yet
i was still thinking about tambourine man
and i feel fine
something there for you
the voice was saying
i was beginning to formulate my strategy
i was beginning to take notice
they were speaking a language
i could understand
and maybe
even better
i could be understood

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