home and whip the horses

the days of new, the forest is no different to the city and the waves and endloss expanse of blue water that joins the sky somewhere out there is the same as the people that wander these streets trying to figure out where the happiness lies.  Everywhere and at every instant, the possibilities for it is infinite.  I welcome the new year and have some great plans for some great new works.  Fighting the good fight for the freedom of expression on at least a few of australias dwindling streets in its hastily gentrifying streets.  the time was and  ever will be in the now and i will make you know my name.  Even if the skies above should break and the angels descend there will be no distraction from the absolute which is ever and always; upon us.

into the dark sacred night.

step back to mother

time and tide wait for none.

the time grows short, the hours descend and the blackness is at its thickest,
i leave this city and travel into the gathering summer, into the wild the forest and into the country where
nature waits, with tangled bough and shimmering surface.
the road leads to nowhere, to the womb to the close family.  the city is the beast as well, for we are everything but something other than the animal, but nevertheless the wild awakes in all who listen a perspective that is universal and carries the complete wisdom of life.
Beyond the high reaching cement and glass and beyond the ribbons of black tar and rock that wrap this ancient landmass.
Where the blue waters hustle and sigh, where the air is salty and the bush is tangled over the rocks before it leads into the dark shadowy glades and fens where the rocky rivers run.

the country, my country, our country, the wilderness, where the city runs silent behind me and the ancient traditions continue in from of me.  the sky is endless and no light betrays its best intentions.
but none of this matters.
its magic is in the sublime and only contemplation and patience and the eventual silence of the mind trick it into drifting into your fragile eggshell mind like a drug that never fades.

have a great christ mass and new year,
if i am not eaten by a shark i will return in the new year.

vaya con dios amigos

in a little while all the streets will be clean and we will fall into the new

sway and the world sways with you
the tall and the weak
the tired and the sweet

It comes at last and takes away the temporary and leaves the bitter taste of ignorance, the foolish space between.  Always, because the fool is only wise if he knows his folly.  Because i cease to exist at times, i move through this life in the body of a human but this is all that will tell of this, and perhaps a ghost of a memory of a life long gone.  Shoddy projector you say.  But i was born in this form and so i will die in it despite all the may come to pass.
And i have tasted a water that was older than the stones.  And i have slept in the cradle of the dawn.
So this is my salute to that life which has lifted me up to where i stand now on the cusp of the new which is also the old and all that which these words can only and should only to others give such brief hints, and always without the stamp of an ego.

the sum of all my efforts is none
in the end
who will count
and so shall it be.

the seas are all around us and we we born for the swim

light in the eternal city of night.
the shadows race from it as it flicks between the columns and then is gone.
old air that barely stirs as we push through it.
each footfall pushing up a grasping, collapsing hand of dust
it falls away and we are standing on the edge of a grassy field that leads to the ocean.
blue waves crash into white as they sigh and flow onto the fading stamp of land.
the air is warm and the sky is calm and filled with a growing sun.
we walk towards the sea, there is a small rise that hides the beach but we never seem to reach it.
dandelions pass under our feet and the bee's rise from clover, faces covered with the pollen.
but the beach moves out and away, slowly at first but quickening and now clouds race up from the horizon and a fierce wind begins to blow and the lands shake.  we turn and behind us comes a stampede, all animal great and tiny they veer round us our eye in the storm.  racing by, from ever continent, those that crawl and those that run, those that fly and those that slide.
and they are gone and behind them are the shimmering fields of dunes.
the clouds descend.
darkness pursues.
a dying insect trampled in the terror, kicks itself around the hard green grass, pushing itself around and around in a futile struggle against its time.
i turn back towards the ocean but there is nothing but blackness and even the ground beneath seems to tear itself away.
and then there is silence.
silence and a different shade of black, the cloud is lighter and the air smells of damp earth and fog.
the horizon is defined by rolling hills of blackness and a copse relieve the moon on its path towards me across the dew and the silver cloud.
little holes in the sky remind me of other worlds and a falling star divides the sky for a moment and then is gone.
we are all alone now.
if we raised our hands up they would fall away into nothing.
split into their compositional fibers and molecules and rejoin the plasma the gave birth to all life and what all life will once more become. spreading from our hands through the mystery of our clothing until we are complete.
again.

reign on our parade

autumn is clutching still at the lower half of this continent, some people also refer to it as australia.  Cold fronts this late in the year surely point to the la nina weather influence which crushes certain weather conditions onto this place.  Makes the grass grow greenerer anyway.  And at least we don't have a drought anymore and it will make the bushfire season a little offset perhaps.  Unpredicatable water and sea conditions will however make the sailors dig their heels into the dry docks and shiver in the squally conditions or toast mashed mallows over little tins of kerosene and talk of la mer.
 Campers better pack their tarps and shovels cause your digging drains and drying wet wood to smoke yourselves yellow while your babies cry as they are fed upon by mosquitoes and even the koala bears will probably take shelter under your car and maul whoever decides to approach what is now their territory.  Apart from that, take care on the roads and drive safe.  Over to Bruce now with the Sport.
Bruce: Thanks Reginald, you sure are a relentless optimist, how about i come down to melbourne some time and we both slit our wrists in a spa bath of warm champagne.
Reginal:  Thanks Bruce your such a comedian.
Bruce: i wasn't joking.
Reginald:
Bruce: man whore

god takes care of old people and fools, the devil takes care of all the rules

the summer chills take hold in the uncertain lights and the houses all tucked warm and well swept shine monotonously from their roots to their pretty eaves.  My hands are folded and stretched and the empty streets by night that i ply know my name by this or that letter and a gesture of limitless life.  Silence and noise are my only friends and each takes a turn at holding me down while the other runs for water and to just fly across the streets in fitzroy.  Look away to your window where the outside world is hushed even in its cacophony, where the greens lead to grey and to the lost colours that hide behind the shadows and tangle with the other lives that ponder past unperturbed by a lossless train of thought that bypassess every station and never dries your pens or inks untill it's carriages part before a widening sun that consumes it and all your thoughts and the infinity is washed with the beginning of a new chapter, shapely like the last and only earmarked by the slight chance, the same that rules all of this.  World