Untitled - Brooke Linford

Untitled

After a long time
of being still
he begins to crackle

I can hear
his mind tick
see him kneel
in his robe

maybe
finally
he can call off the search.

Brooke Linford
http://www.holland1945.net.au/

In Translation - Amelia Walker

In Translation

This language is a borrowed dress
I put on,
but never truly wear.

It is functional enough:
hides what must be hidden,
enables me to blend into streets and supermarket aisles.
Still I know -perhaps others can tell-
it is not mine.

It hangs baggily in some places,
affords no movement in others;
is patched mismatching colours -legacy
of countless past wearers.
It has been taken in,
taken out, torn and soiled,
sewn up and let down.
No matter how much I wash it
the fabric is flavoured with moments that are not mine:
spilled drinks and cigarettes,
perfume and sweat,
a million mixed meanings,
minefields for misinterpretation.

Still I walk around, wrapped in this language:
foreign as it is, I know no other.

Secretly, though, I pick at its frays,
trying to imagine what could be
if this language and I were to unravel
into nakedness,
into silence.
Without words there are no rule books,
without words there are no lies.

Amelia Walker

(first appeared in The Mollusca Chain)

http://www.freewebs.com/ameliawalker/index.htm

Tourist Strip Poems - Graham Nunn

Tourist Strip Poems

1. The same old people
walking along the
same old skyline

2. A shell in the window
listening to the waves

3. Ghosts of the Yugambeh
people selling artefacts
in the avenue

4. Tomorrow's sand
waiting in the bilges

5. A seagull deafened
by concrete
on all sides

6. Clouds of sandflies
rise to neon calligraphy

7. The night sky's excesses
pour into
wakefulness

8. Streets of homeless;
suburbs of living dead

Graham Nunn
http://grahamnunn.wordpress.com/