here in a cave by the ocean
the roar of water reminds me
time moves in every direction
whether or not a clock stops
while soldiers pour into Tibet
while depleted uranium poisons Iraq
while a big ’sorry’ rings across Australian red earth
we find every chance to lift something softly
we find our best songs still have words
we find an embrace as potent as plankton
small things
in this secret place
I keep them in the dark
the sound of my son’s baby voice
the day he brought me hexagonal tiles he found
the way he smiled and thought of me sometimes
a collection of laughter my daughter made at nothing at all
a reminder she gave me to always think first ’will this hurt anyone?’
a box covered in fabric scraps with tiny gloves inside to protect me
Maori kept precious feathers in a lidded carved receptacle
they wore such decorations in their black hair
perhaps some even now place what flies and swoops under cover
every time I bring out into view what those familiar give me
I hear such a crowd in a breath and see people run across a beach
where the surf rolls a breakthrough
welcome then into this darkness and secrecy
the open mouth of a recess into the rock and under a mountain
where we hold gifts from those loved kept safe for their light
Today I Stopped Throwing myself off the Top of Buildings
I heard Ghost Riders in the Sky play on the car radio
while across the harbour bridge fear drowned in a lurex sea
all the times I could’ve died fell into the sun
later I embraced a media star in his cafe
oh - how we danced the day past blue
today I stopped throwing myself off the top of buildings
the way I held myself changed into a lake with tall trees
when we walked there birds flew across the sun for us
forgiveness a river discovered in dense country
many new paths through dappled light to reflection
today I stopped throwing myself off the top of buildings
my past gave up belonging to a cult where it had to speak in tongues
I attended a meeting of the Secret Society for Best Ideas
laughter brimmed in our cups after singing to moonlight
now I head for the infinite with unbroken eggs in my hands
the tackiest
plastic flowers and a gold aluminium fruit bowl
dead moths
candlewick bedspread and woollen blankets
no duvet
dripping tap in the bathroom
a cha cha cha
he posed on the pink queen-size and grinned
said he thought I'd like
the irony of cheating in a place like that
where style got mooned
paw marks everywhere
later I flew to Europe
sailed on a picture of alps
into the arms of another love in leather
my motel smirker sent me
letters saying to stay happy
a smile in each ending
how brave his ink had to be
