you are still the dinosaur
of influence on alien waters
i see no content
besides the weather
it is raining parrots
i see an intruder
she is a tiny painter
firing blue parrots and
burnt trees at
mad australia
this method is new
inferring a dinosaur
from one tooth
inferring an artwork
from one intruder
i see someone riding a dog
is it a lizard
perhaps a butterfly trying
dutifully
to be graceless and forget
his vocabulary
i see a figure on the roof
below her a ladder
below that a window
below that a city lane
i see a young
europe in his favourite
dress
the one
encrusted with history
that shows off his bloated
sympathy
for the underdog
look at europe
a mere eclectic
a minor one at that
i see something in his hands
it is a little bit of paint
bloated with history
it is dripping everywhere
i take a sip and pass out
i see sunset
oh gosh and it has all the
profusion of a child's world
i see a boy and a puppy
napping in the bush
i don't search backwards for the
value of childhood
i just listen and see what i see
i see the blind end of europe's gut
in my hands when i paint
i see australian infants
swarming the canvass
mother darlink
i have joined a progressive school
far away
where gesture is free
and calligraphy
incoherent
my tongue is white
i'm lapping it up
in warrandyte
every night
i fall asleep and wake up
the main character
stuck in a landscape
like a clumsy
organic monster
i see straight through
his
head
i see his kangaroo-like talents
i see his strong sense of purpose
i can't tell if i'm riding my
horse forwards or backwards
i can't reckon if me rifle is pointed
at meself or the sky
i'm stuck
in your armour
the billycan concept
assiduously
imitated
frozen over australia in mid-fall
with snapshot precision
rescued from the golden
mile
of an angry decade
