Bibi
Bibi was grandmother’s favorite bat,
And a frequent visitor to her attic bedroom.
She’d laugh all night at Bibi’s stories
About all the mosquitoes he had eaten;
She howled at his Lugosi impersonation.
Bibi was killed by a corn broom-wielding neighbor,
A used-up-dishrag-of-a-man
Used to smashing other people’s dreams.
Grandmother died soon after,
Of something like malaria,
But more like a broken heart.
-Elizabeth Moura
..day 79..
at dusk the bats kinda do that
and we aint got the swallows here
like we used to have
sitting on the wires
flying in the hall
maybe again now the people
are all indoors
though more out than usual
in this warm spell
i like the pictures of the amish
neat and sedate riding in to
demonstrate
so it goes
james
sometimes when we get lost
we find new experiences
a new landscape
i tell you who already know
what i said about brainwaves explains
why my mind wanders while i write
remembers places
tiny details nip
back into mind
today i am hedging again
it looks a mess so far so i
imagine
that when the worst is gone
i shall dress dainty and clip
about like a lady
all nice and tidy
other things have growed and we tied them with a scarf
is comfy
..day 80..
did you see that christo has died?
i am wearing last year’s sandals
and they look like new
childrens
i guess i have small feet
i admire him the same as i admire
anselm keifer
while wondering if i spell them
correctly
i walked miles today
the blisters i worried over
did not materialise
first day in summer footwear
never aware that no form is
indeed a form
that randomness is recognised
as a category
the poetry group does not
meet of course
and we email the stuff
so at last i can see the format
the patterns and syllables
i may not go back
to the group if ever
all this be over
so i worked on the hedge all day
scratched, bitten and hog tired
that my head hung
we sat in bed listening
heard nothing
nothing as it came through the window
black, so beautiful
not one sound
nothing
flew around a while then back out into
the night
i know how to spell silent
yet it does not explain the
absence of sound with all
the movement
that life
this morning i listened to water
falling
we desire many things when
mostly we want to be able to
breathe
james
you never talk much about food
though you do relate coffee incidents
james i hope you do not mind me saying
i best get back to the hedge project
early
before the sun beats my back
my arms
my little nose
suntrap
