Music Poem
I miss when music was life or death
the creeping silences at the edges
wider than any glazier could carry
across a six–lane highway when
everyone in the house was asleep
on furry speakers at the very least
a religious experience with teeth
drumming racehorses against a cassette
somewhere in photocopied Europe
a well–folded heartbeat you said sitting
here forever sore in your room mulberries
from the window squared notepaper
pushed into envelopes passed along
the clean hands of the postal system.
Soundtrack
the grass ticks like dials eyes
not cordial coloured
a split shadow where's my pen
two moments ago
this inbox was a who's who
hot drink mistake
too weak to move through
teaspoon by tail
click 'compose'
but it's already changed
the rushes tumble out
from laundromat to footpath
four hooves touching the ground
a slow lash
Ekleksographia:
Wave Two
May, 2010
Poetry
Tim Wright
Tim Wright currently resides in Melbourne's northern suburbs; blogs erratically at swimswan.wordpress.com.