1

We came by boat, in the dark
There were seals on the rocks and in the water
Other creatures
Never before sighted by the eyes of man

Gently we progressed through the night
Gently through the nights and the still waters
And everywhere about us darkness and looming headlands

What sort of place was this, what sort of place?

Had there been fires we would have known there were other people
We might have assumed, yes, the existence of other souls
But there were no fires, no hearths, no places of comfort or of welcome
Someone in the lead boat fired a shot
It did not reverberate
There was no echo, no echoing call shot
Or sudden screech from a night bird hid in the mangroves or flying low over the water

There was no echo, no answering call

We came by boat
We came by boat across the still dark waters
We came by boats across the still dark waters and there was no one

2

Across the room they passed/google eyes
Acorss the rom they passed google eyes and still my plate was broken, my precious thing

Careless, carelesss people and still those google eys

How shall we say a thing
We were waiting for a heartbeat, a tender moment

Something

Not, no, the ghosts of the dead
Not, no, the amplified sounds of decay
Or any kind of wretchedness
Yet something, something tender
considered
affable even
Yes, something bordering on affability

In front of us the stonje wall crumbled, the concrete wall came down
And even though the years were many the wall existed
There were no lichens upon that rock or that concrete
Nothing had grown, not a thing

How odd, we thought, that nothing will grow in conditions of blockage, separation, stone-walling

The heart is a gravel pit in which nothing prospers

You may for the moment cut the sigh with a knife

3

Tango time, mango time
Rhythms that bewitch and catch ya
Snatch ya
Up up and in, in in

Juice runs down your lips
Tongues way

The gossip of the day is avid
Runs down your chin
Plays fancy dancer with the timpani of fork and spoon
Cutlery al fresco

Cheers!

Rattle your timbers, rattle your bones

Old Brahms at the keyboard hears the rattler twitching down the track at the back at the back
Looks out across his kitchen sink
Across a panoply of red geraniums
To the peaks the peaks the peaks
That lift his spirits and yet deflate

Tango, mango, what drongo wrote this rubbish anyhow

Mango, tango, who knows the final rhyme
Who sets it, who sets it, me or you
Yes, celery sticks at dawn
Bravo!

No, sorry, hold on a moment, my mobile just rang

Join the chorus, join the chorus, join the chorus
It’s either them or us, so join the chorus

© john von sturmer thurs 6 aug 2009