in the grass

in the grass

gulls looking for gull-ness, the Weathercats raise their tails to them, picture by Big Cat

the black-backed gulls
have packed in the
sea and beach
in the dusk
that blows
the estuary
towards
the dark,
the black-backed
gulls are looking
for something
on the field
in the cold
nips of rain,
something one
has lost but
all must find,
school was
out hours
ago,
no children
to help
them now
fine-comb
the grass,
the black-backed
gulls are finding
drops of rain
gathered
down the
channels
of its
leaves,
they are
looking for
that something

in sight

in sight

The shadow of so many concrete things came… snapped here by a Weathercat

we knew
when those
roads were laid
in what were
paddocks
for us to
lie in
cloud gazing,
the cows that
all haunch and
tail nonchalance
wandered
through the
school fields,
we knew when
we saw asphalt
and glaring concrete
pavements across
the bulldozed clay,
wire fences bundled
up in tangle,
knew our
summer days of grass,
kite, the fight with

homecoming

homecoming
dedicato a Marco, poeta e traddutore

The smell of seaweed burning, a scene smelt out of the day

1.

there was nothing
else than the walk from
the shore to the house
all as it had been
for all time past
yet voices shouting*
bold with the
drink from your
own cellar
and you sank
the arrow
into their
fat revelry
even before
you had kicked
the stout door
in with calves
of iron

2.

kavafy** i see
you with a suit
the grey of an
otago sky
the excellent
shades fining