had a lovely saturday night with my little one
stumbling on the bucking kitchen floor
a mist formed in my eyes and everything seemed smoky
after a shaky liftoff
i achieved cruise latitude
we drank riccadonna ruby red
and we became lost in our conversations
threading through the avenues of our thoughts
stopping in unexpected night gardens
we made out among the statues
our house expanded to contain our universe
i was telling you about my life w/bush n ghosts
i was telling you a very deep dark secretive thing
i was so lost in my words
my words like a forest
my words hemming me in
my words a grove of sentences
life sprouting everywhere
you were sitting there in the candlemoonlight
listening to me
i could see you
listening intentsly
i could see you before my smoky eyes
and if you were a little cold
and if you were a little sleepy
and if the voice coming out of me
wasnt hipp-know-tizing us slowly
yes i told you about the pictures
yes i told you of my long lost youth
yes i told you about youthful predilections
about the flat in canberra where i lived
when i right and then left home
where slept in my room in wonder
where joe and i smoked homegrown weed
and my head exploded in achingly slow motion
and we listened to some prog record and i saw gawd
and my hands floated up to the ceiling like lianas
i was scared to close my eyes
it was all rushing backwards in my head
towards some point in the distance, fr’instance
and girls who came over there
and the songs i wrote on a one stringed guitar
talking thinking rambling in a strangers soft voice
i was telling you about my weird scenes and my dark thoughts
i could tell you werent judging me though
i could see you were enjoying my midnite confession
i could see my winged words were hitting home
i could feel them bouncing down in your recall
in one ear and out the other
my words were slipping into you
and slipping out of you again
coming out all mixed up and changed
and i said listen
as i wove this web of words
as i weave thru the traffic in my spine
as i wake up that nasty serpent
as i make another fire
there is another world out there
a world of easy pleasure
a world with no outsides
a world of our own
the neighbours come home and bang around
but theyre a million moonlit miles away
in my room i am king jester and slave
in my room i am the whole of the law
in my room with the candles all flickering with little haloes
in my room with my riccadonna ruby
which i sip cautiously
in my room with my suitcase and guitar
in my room with the wine stain on the carpet
in my room with a little high window
one thing ive learnt is how to have a good time
one thing more is how good times suddenly evaporate
one other thing is the mundane doldrums that plague me
let me be in my heads pace
let me run my course
like a river in flood
like a highway that shoots thru your town
like a missile entering enemy airspace
like a hatchet job on an axe hero
like when they hang the wrong man
like christmas on the easter islands
more than that cannot be said
more than that is wasteful
more than that could make you behave irresponsibly
as the ice melts down in the tray
as you insinuate yourself towards me
as you do
as you alight on a chair
as you spin out of control
as you are ever ready
and sleep comes on so gradually
you cant tell whats happening anymore
its all immaterial
a moot point
a shibboleth
a bridge from nowhere to nowhere
a spoonful
a footprint in the concrete
a night locked in the zoo
we face the beasts and animals
they say
we thought you were the animals
they say
dont watch us so rudely
they say
you are incapable of understanding us
now i drift off my baby
my companion
now i drift off to my own world
even you cant come in here ordinarily
but tonight
you can take shelter in the warm cavern of slumber
shrug off your weary things
its deep and pleasant
we’ll swim into it together
only to be parted
by sleeps sweet oblivion