and what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
- bob dylan
I SAW DUCKS with tiny eyes, beer-bottle brown. the water combed the reeds that sat beside it in simple friendship.
(on the way home i saw an avenue of trees. the central boughs had been cut out so they wouldn't interfere with the power lines overhead. they looked like an avenue of open hands passing the power along like life-savers do.)
I SAW MODERNIST buildings streaked with grief, the grief of grieving weather.
IN THE MORNING the mist was thick with light. later on the train i saw ghost gums like plaintive hands reaching out of the earth.
FOUR NIGHTS LATER i stepped out of the caravan. there was a cheshire moon just above the horizon: a tilted grin shrinking with the days until saturday.