camped on an old site
when I came to this place I stood in grass, watched it come
toward me in waves, and thought about description
that was because as i came up the gully where the driveway
had been, past the carragana hedge, i felt she's
here the child and then: i'm her
the pump is here and still works, all of it is surrounded
by grass
there were some clouds of gnats at the edge of the bushy. when
i went to look at them they came around my head as if curiously
i'm cross-legged at a plank, the sun is hot. this is
thursday. there are big fluffs of cumulous, above them
streaks of haze
sun coming and going is like a breeze
in the high sky vapour trails crossing each other
birds are coming closer to the tent, this morning there was
one flutflut at the door
the bush where the house was, on my right, is rattling suddenly
it's thundering. the tractor stopped. it rained
the thunder breaks and it travels, moves fast. it can
be in two locations at once, it's a dark sound. every thunder
is different, the last seemed to have a spine in it like a quill
the storm weather is a broad stripe down the centre of the
sky. it's light to north and south of it
there's an aluminum light out there and the rain is
almost one sound
a light on the tent, faint, and a puffy wind that comes in
and blows out the sides. it's moving all the time
around its pole, it's lively
there's been a hawk squealing in the bluff north of here.
and an owl that comes and goes where the corral used to
be (are you interested in these things?)
echoes from the bush
one duck goes over. its wings shear a crossing fifty
feet up
the light that's come on to the south -- hikens' place,
four, five, miles away. a road on the ridge we could see
headlights creeping along
two stars among clouds
no fire tonight. i'm drinking the rest of the chateau
pierredon. there's an ant dry in the tent with me.
its house is not far away
back in sexsmith. she heated the pie before she put the
ice cream on. the laughter in this place is nice, it's
coffee time and people are being friendly. they laugh like
those poplars clapping ih - ih - ih - ih old man
kokofsky he puts a cup of coffee per pot, you drink that
you see china
|