The Dizzy Creek Falls Poems
7/8 Flying Back In (24.3.2014)
Through warped, twisted and distorted space
Past black holes and stuff
Flying back in
After a night out
With Mr Tambourine Man
And some of his mates
Zooming and focusing
Quite out of the question
For you now
Nearly impossible feats and
Not only your wings
All aflutter
Disheveled and
Scruffy necked
Particles and planets
People and plants
Unknown creatures
Swishing and hissing by
Your disconnected head
But you know you’ll make it
Guided by that amber
Trust and confidence
Home one more time
2/8 Little Spine in the Sky (1.4.2014)
Evolving
Through the dawn
Of ages
Leaving the dark
Waters
Learning to swim, crawl, walk
And fly
Reaching architectural perfection
Bridging that gap
Between brain and buttocks
Agile and delicate at the same time
Hypersensitive
To weight and leverage
And a lie detector too
Maybe
Stabilizing force
Of movement and pain
3/8 Night Rope Walkers (4.4.2014)
See them doing their thing
Up there
Some are jumping
High and merry
Others hang upside down
Or swing round the rope
And the stars
And the daredevil creature
In an amazing feat
Jester and charmer
Grotesque and cool
Nearly brushing with death
Balances a lizard eating
Carnivore on his cocky head
And on his skinny legs
A while
Singing spherical tunes
And all that in the dark skies
Of a red summer’s night
One moment in time
1/8 My Desert Meeting the Night (10.4.2014)
Cloudy dragons and such
Soaring above
Sight lost in pillars of dust
Water far off
A vague memory
Crawling across that desert of mine
My lips cracked
Sipping vinegar and dreams
Yearning - my tongue mute and parched
Under that dizzy spell
But still I feel forms and visions
While I am losing this grip
Fragments pebbles rock
Strewn over fields of aridity
Stone to sand to wind
Snail to shell
Flesh to bone
Glistening light April white
July fierce creeping in
Through desiccated slits
Before the darkness
Might fall
5/8 This Spiky Red Wedge (16.4.2014)
This wedge that separates
Day and night
Dry and wet
The birds, the fish and the elephant
Is the wedge that tortures us
Is the wedge that gives birth to us
Is the wedge giving us eyes to see
Is the original instrument
Of the craftsman, the artist and the thinker
Is the wedge between
Beast and angel
Head and heart
The wedge that makes us and
The wedge that breaks us
And when we soar
On the wings of it all
And we see from afar
It is the wedge
We hold on to
For dear life
4/8 Splish Splash (19.4.2014)
Your flat masked carnival face
Venice or so
Tilted on that thin brittle stick
Busted like a bubble
The other day
In the dazzling sun light
Splish splash
Loss of face
A line or two
Some dots in the dark
And the light
Ripped torn and ruptured
And you better
Grow some butt and balls
Some muscle and some brain
And get a move on
Hip hop up that slope
Or you vanish
In thin air
For good
8/8 Spiky Particles Blues Bow Bridge (26.4.2014)
Can you walk
Across that bridge
Between night and day
Above the abyss
The void and the vain
Understand the where from
And the where to
In the sun or in the rain
Bubbles bursting
All of it water and fire
Insubstantial and evanescent
Beauty and horror
Can you cross the bridge
Between superficial irrelevance
And life love and growth
Can anybody?
6/8 Two Dragons Rising (30.4.2014)
Mighty Monsters
Both of medieval
Imagination
One good
One evil
One the instrument
Of fear and torture
In the hands
Of man
The other one
Too often forgotten
Neglected and ignored
What a pity
The sweet dragon
Doesn’t rise more often
Over the wastelands
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Archaeopteryx
version 1
what a way
for a bird
to have the blues:
you're the first one
to lift off and stay in the air
on the magic
of your wings then you die
and petrify
and stay
in the stone for an eternity
before archaeologists
free you from
your cruel cage
and set you free again
a metaphor
that will never crash
nor grow cold
version 2
what a way for a bird
to sing the blues
to be the first one ever
to lift off
hover
and stay suspended
on the magic
of your wings
to fly
perhaps
then
to die
and petrify
and stay stoned
for an eternity
till archaeologists
free you from
your cruel cage
and spread the belated news
of your fantastic feat
what a price
to pay for freedom
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Archäopteryx
welch Frust
für so einen Vogel
für diesen Vogel
den einen
den ersten
sich vor allen andern
vom Boden zu erheben
in die Lüfte
dort zu hängen und zu verweilen
gar zu fliegen
vielleicht
und keiner sieht zu
keiner hört davon
ewig fast
bleibt er still und unerkannt
versteinert im Fels
bis Archäologen ihn finden
und befreien aus seiner
steinernen Kammer
und berichten
von seiner Leistung
berühmt ist der Vogel nun
den keiner je gesehn
welch Preis
für diesen Moment
der einsamen Freiheit
welch schräger Vogel
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Do Something
by The Eagles
My finger tips on the glass
the woman with the eyes
and the body
Sunday morning
papers
rustling
spreading
dry coffee patterns
lacing the inside of my cup
The expert says
sex changes under pressure
more freedom means less exciting
passion dwindles with opportunity
vicious circles
immigration and economic
prosperity and
I am sitting here
in my own house
while
the woods are growing
into the land that's getting scarce
they want to build neighborhoods
in the woods around town
by the freeway now
There's not enough wheat to feed
the world
Russia's harvest enormous this year
time is seeping in along the seams
despite the switch to winter time
now
there's little respite
Three little titmice
hit the mirror
of my
window pane
seeing one horizon too many
necks have been broken
this way before
the time is seeping in
in Australia they slaughter cattle
for lack of water
it's too hot in Colorado
for the vermin
to die
in the winter time now
monster trees felled
by insects
a sad eyed lumber jack
turned green and sensitive
sitting on the wooden debris
The salmon pale plus
a bit of old greenish yellow
of the false vine
and the purple grapes
outside
in the little lime stone
kitchen yard
lichen slowly creeping across
the stones of the dry wall
I built
some years ago
Looking for words to
make contact
with this October kind of
beauty
and
stay in
and wait
a little longer
yet
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Migraine
Spring
teach
my brain
to absorb the rain
trigger
transformation
tap the sap
frozen sunk
in the winter
of stubborn thought
cold north wind
southern winds of
expectations
Spring
teach me
how to drift and flow
and do away
with this brain of mine
that instrument of
torture trying
in vain
to keep up
the illusion
of order
knowledge
logic
and
a
plan
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Carving
Father
you never
carved
that lion
you started working on
out
of that junk of wood
and
you never finished
putting together
that three-master
model
either
They have both filled my eyes
with admiration and expectation
Now we have both got
unfinished projects
and my kids are grown too
top
It's not
That I
no longer
crave
the
darling buds of May
the cherry lips
ruby etc
of the women
it's not
that I don't
yearn
or dance
any longer
it's not that
I don't want more of it all
It's not the pain
or the anger
nor the fear
or
insanity
for
the colors
and the trees
still speak to me
like they used to
It's just
that
I sometimes
consider
the end
and
top
I tried to love
and
it
didn't work
I guess
this won't
surprise
you
as
you've been
around
some
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Change of Season
I'm tired
of
falling
in love
over again
now that the
blue skies
are shrouded
and the
sun
is getting
wan
Now that
I
want to walk
the woods
those juicy lips
firm breasts
and hungry hips
don't appeal to me
like before
and
even though
they might respond
more
than
before
I'd rather
blend
with
the dying
flower, leaf and foliage
and
sink
into
the swamp
stiff
till
spring
…
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Georgia
And the Genizario
in those
reds greens and ochers
sands and stones
of New Mexico
She drove around
those places
to paint
in her Ford
with the backseat
gone for her canvas
Him still alive
Old and crazy
in his tourist shop
next to her house
telling stories
creating
what he thinks
is art
singing hymns
member of the order
of the brothers
del luz
Her gone
despite all the vegies
the yoghurt
and the
bomb shelter
And you should have seen
the O'Keeffe foundation lady's
face
when she said to me:
Oh, you met him?
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