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As far as I could imagine

was never far enough

to place me here.

I was prospecting in a small town up north

(Papunyu in the Northern Territory)

The circus had left a small tent behind.

I peeked inside, looking for adventure.

There was a gypsy sitting naked in front

of a crystal ball she was fondling.

She had my portrait tattooed on her breasts...

it was impossible not to notice - even for a man.

She said my future was mapped in my hands

would I put them on my portraits

to know.

I remembered her from some distant shore

(when we were children it was her dolls

I had sacrificed to Aphrodite

during mass and she never forgave)

I didn't want my future told

I knew where all the doors were

AND THAT IS ALL ONE NEEDS TO KNOW TO GET OUT

As I left the tent

I felt Chiron's hot laughter behind me

and turned just in time to watch the tent

disappear into the screaming mist

Before long I did forget it all

until tonight when my concupiscent concubines

came home and said a gypsy was looking for me

to tell my future

she was no longer smiling.

Now I know it is my end because I sacrificed

to the wrong god so long ago

like all men do to bring about their end

 

Storiette #7 4-17-94 Victor Harbor SA

 

That rusted moment

too long in the rain

No shelter could be found to save it for now

When she said good-bye

I thought she was just going

to the afternoon's feminist rally

I even baked you some tofu cookies

('sorry the bottoms were burnt')

and ironed your culottes

('excuse the hole dear, I'm just a man')

But there was baseball on the television all that day - and football to follow

Of course no real man would join them

The beer was cold, the guys were over

the ladies were paid for...

How was I to know that their rally

was opposed to men taking a bite of life?

And that she would never return

Now I think of her and the '60s

the rallies, concerts, beliefs, rebellions

and our explosive experimental youth.

And those rusted moments

left too long out in the rain.

4-15-94 Victor Harbor SA

 

 

 

I crossed the border

under the cover of the storm

while nature battled herself.

Humans were not to be part of this possessed night

Her house sat past the clearing

I could hear her voice above the storm's scream

singing an old out-of-tune '60s melody

Between the shadows of the lightening

I could see her dancing in front of the window

She had thrown her clothing into the night

She looked as if she was having sex with the storm.

As I ran through the meadow a bolt of lightening

crashed through her window

and in her final moment

she caught sight of me and sang out

'Not tonight my dear

Not tonight

for now and evermore I belong to the storm'.

9-20-94 Victor Harbor SA

 

I was surfing the local diabolical billabong

when first I saw her

sunbathing in the naked paddock

Her breasts like

two thirty-cent ice-cream cones

from a drive-through eatery

beckoning me to cloak her

with my righteous soul

to protect her from a rude mouthed sun

trying to melt her two thirty-cent ice-cream coned breasts

Then I awoke with my dog licking my face

and whining to go outside

Is this the legacy of Jung or Freud?

9-20-94 Victor Harbor SA

 

contact Myanmar 2014

NEW SITE = JULY 2014 - http://neuage.us/2014/July/ - Today working on picture poem links starting around "better" (28 August 2014). Picture poems are the digital format of work I did as a street artist in New Orleans in the 1970s, as well as New York City, Honolulu, San Francisco and Adelaide South Australia. Follow @neuage .

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contact Myanmar 2014

NEW SITE = JULY 2014 - http://neuage.us/2014/July/ - Today working on picture poem links starting around "better" (28 August 2014). Picture poems are the digital format of work I did as a street artist in New Orleans in the 1970s, as well as New York City, Honolulu, San Francisco and Adelaide South Australia. Follow @neuage .

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