a thick thick fog has silenced sydney
on the top floor of a small house
surrounded by whiteness
surrounded by gentle quiet
i open up my mind and let it run free
i dreamt for a thousand years
who am i?
oh so many oh so many
like us all
enfolded encoded
the years like a coil
i am accessing something deep and submerged
something like a land
something where all senses are one
yes there is that place
the disciplines bleed into each other
oh i am only learning
learning so fast
racing the ominous second hand
as it traverses its monotonous loop
the songs write themselves
the paintings paint themselves
the words lay down on this page before my eyes
still the fog increases
pressing down on the marine city
swooping out of nowhere
sounds muffled in its white darkness
the flowers in the garden glow through it
like many incandescent points
machinery vaguely hums
a door slams somewhere
a car accelerates and another breaks
recognizing universal forms now
certain lines certain progressions
of course no real artist can enjoy their own work
impatience and familiarity
my brush glides
my eyes observe
my mind calculates
my mind has to know when to intervene
when to let things flow
the process is like a snowball effect
the tiniest idea will cause a landslide if its true
you can never run out of ideas
even if you live to 54
even if you like me
can enjoy this journey into the future
improve!
that must be my imperative
i must improve
i will improve
i am improving
this is not just my affirmation
i work so hard to improve
ah just like everything
the results for me are slow
but sometimes i’m a tortoise splitting hares
sometimes im the last one to understand
but when i do
i can do so much with so little
a little is all you need
my gifts were never the way i wanted them
my face and hair neither
i was put down in the wrong place
my past lives didnt understand me
something still makes me behave erratically
what are the forces pushing me around
again, the mind must know when to intervene
dont get in the way of magic
but dont let fiascos long endure either
be friendly but beware
the fools think there is no magic left
but its there on every minute level
the fog seems to be losing its grip
the city pops up here and there
the harbour bridge still hidden in the distance
sydney oh such a beautiful city
with its waters and its cliffs
its views its oceans its clouds its blue may skies
stockholm too …it must be getting pretty there now
elektra and miranda leaving in 2 weeks
we look at each other with a certain resigned sadness now
the feeling of temporariness
i know we will hardly ever speak when they return
turning seventeen in the warm skandic summer
oh the long days
oh the beautiful scents drifting in the country air
lovely blessed sweden never far from my thoughts
my little flat in bastugatan
waking up in the long dark nights of snow
alone in my loft bed before i met natalie
sweden all around me
i wanted to be swedish but i never could be
i never could be anything i wanted to be
i could only be the things i stumbled into
im not even a proper australian
when i get yabbering im usually too much for most aussies
englishmen rightly treat me with suspicion
my freckles my drawl my laconic laziness betrays me
i could pretend to be american but why?
they like me better the way i am….luckily
i have realized something lately
i am not everyones cup of tea
socially musically whatever
i rang up mem the other day
out of the blue
can you believe this guy answers the phone:
killer?
see
the web is tightening
anyway i liked talking to him
he was on my wavelength
but uh
its funny what is it that makes some aussies uncomfortable
i was on the bus with my kids
and i’m talking to em
you know my usual tripe
people all slack jawed around me
listen to the long words he uses to his kids
ok i think
if i’m so smart howcome i’m riding on a bus?
the more i appeal for riches and wealth
the goddess of fortune smiles and waves her head….no!
you have to be unconcerned
you have to be detached
life and maya and the family
a minefield
an obstacle course to negotiate
i love my children
but i love my work
which will i attend
when all children need you
or all children ignore your advice
trying to be the best painter and best father
my kids are incessantly drawing and colouring
they chew through the paper like demons
sorry about all that paper though i guess
see …eveything is verily a dilemma
many hands make light work
too many crooks spoil the brothel
ha ha
i just made that up
see…
the fog is dissolving in sunlight
the childs wake up
the baby will soon be stomping around
looking wild and disheveled
aurora with her wide bunny face
eve all warm sleepy and husky voiced
the dismal sounds of incessant construction reappear
but the sky is the most royal blue
and the sun is yellow
and now it 8 oclock
the real day begins