Article 10

For Kent MacCarter

Let’s face it Boss, we wear our luck outside 
our pants, yet still—it seems—
one stinking truck 
                   of shit follows another 
      then your
                    SPLENDID NEWS
hits town
Smile—salute— 
        Oh yes, here’s another stinking truck
                   Sky fish are so hypnotic
“Clippity clop clippity clop”
         A toast—
“The towel’s not thrown just yet”
 


Bellegarde-du-Razès

I smoked on the terrace
in the twilight—

only to find I prefer
the balcony in Geelong.

 

‘Duncan, hoist the spanker…’

—for DH

Oyster, oyster, on
the wall DAWNS
A BIG DOG
WOG (in crayon
           scrawled)—so it’s written, so
                 it’s read—“I need 
                         a keyboard 
                                to create”—Onions, mushrooms, chard 
& bacon, sautéed fetta 
                               chilli flakes 
                                            (canso
vida, shanty fever)—

                                            Abandon captain, little ship 
                                                               the local pose is wearing thin.