first post
(by
means of which the garden is called
so
we begin to tend)
the
first post
must
have fallen
not
from the clear blue
...it's
a storm would have shook it free
it
lay suggestively till took up with...
sturdy,
apt for purpose
someone
notched it
like
a string around a finger
but
you won't remember that
...answer
to a question
first
of many yet to ask
first
post suggested task, improvement
perhaps
one was speechless with it
then
it was a kind of writing
*
start
out beating them off with a stick
could
turn snake
you'd
lean it with the wind
who
was first to measure with this?
who
was first to point?
whack!
it was spear
and
propped a sagging idea - roof
then
pike with severed head upon
how
did we get there?
*
once
someone considered this a clock
and
took a sun to shine that way
so
the rain was for us
smug
to sit indoors
and
read the first post for the day
might
be hollow by now
drummy
to tap
if
ants have been
or
borer
*
you
pick the thing up today
see
a fence strung wired
in
mind's eye
cattle
must respect
it's
timber cut
deaf
as ... who knows?
no
one has spoken
I
like to imagine a trumpet myself
and
the walls go up with it
*
once
it came three times a day
telegrams
not counting
you
see yourself as souvenir
and
horses with this haste
read
back and see
in
all of before
a
clamour to be
stout
piece
cylindrical
or square
so
fit
*
not
chapter
but
each
beginningish
again
takes
certain set of mind to start
for
drumroll
beat
some skin
(as
firstness is all relative
and
post may be referred pain)
no
idle boast
Jason's
ark
is
Eve's tree
or
simply were we sleeping?
*
it
is a size of paper too
think
of with all despatch
you
moor to this
so
list
make
known
I
use a post-it
(spare
the dog)
recalls
me
to
the page
*
mind
out for splinters
where
the thoughts are rough
take
each next for bulletin
far
flit for
clobber
on the scone
as
belly in with wet fish
first,
plural -
see
lined up like fingers
so
Fido might make territory
you
won't get out of these paws
this
is at one end of the world
where
Monkey came to prove
churchless
pagans
sit
under one
like
Knowledge at Barcaldine
cloned
so now the struggle's over
*
a
poke in the eye with too
(burnt
kind)
you
could joust
or
tie tomatoes
I
will call my journal this
will
spruik fresh oil
ought
to come out of an egg
don't
all?
*
come
ye faithful
Christmas
is gone
now
it's line on the left
one
cross post each
hadn't
thought death would undo so many
*
strike
it in the ledger then
fling
of exclamation
and
the first post pointed too
bone
white
could
die from thinking too much on that
or
of thirst out here
drive
one into the ground
still
nothing?
stockwhip
and blanket
and
tie one on
dig
here
don't
you know Wills was queer?
*
the
picture everywhere unfinished
we
might still explore
thick
stratum
I'll
lean upon this later
just
a few bars
for
the as-yet unborn
although
I know the dark of others
mine
is summer so
see
sky bright
where
the live post points
ever
ever up
*
still
we're piled for firewood
we're
the ones dreamt
run
around to here
like
bones that broke
and
now all ash
like
bones that broke
my
fall
*
every
post a present
and
never all unwrapped
first
past
and
one chair less
but
we're not here to vote
I
take up this office
stiff
as
(sit
on this)
when
is a stake a pillar?
*
as
an ex-
is
post-me
post
like a ghost
(the
late whoever)
morning
after
and
it's all aftering from now on
happily
or
you tell me
(one
could come to resent
having
to read)
post
poem
instance
what's
to do?
when
all the world was tilled in this
*
you
have to respect yourself to get going
we'll
be the music here
Day
Dot
it
isn't even yet
so
we tend to begin
