Canto of the Theatre of Cruelty

I walked the ramparts of five acres

and internal spirits erupted: dug out

of clotted soil at intervals, tufts

of ground cover upturned: cascades

of colours against my bland circulations,

amorphous sexuality of plants

confused by a prevalence of yellow

wattle blossoms: heady, disorientating,

forcing my glance upwards

where clearly through deep blue skies

I could see the format of constellations,

far more vividly than darkness,

highlights of blinding light: meteor trains

furrowing like ploughs or air seeders

blasting the crop in with early emergent

suppressors stopping the birth of new stars

the now rapidly slowing expansion; and so,

thinking over the eminent city

where wind funnels streets of skyscrapers

and crosstown traffics in gravity and motion,

citizens and aliens hurrying to boltholes,

subway injections and trash-dispensing galleries

filling New Jersey with goo and feedback,

vibrations of fire-escapes and rivermist;

and so this haunted entanglement,

rapture of fox and rabbit, mob of horses

roaming the district, coming through

the erasure of fence, cutting up ground,

shitting near saplings, is the energy

driving the treadmill of my head’s city;

torn apart by the biomechanics of gender,

resolutely indecisive, I guided my steps

against the cruelty of neighbours and burrs,

the tears of New York and its liberty;

why am I drawn to my publisher’s office

to talk the success or failure of sheoaks

and spitfires edging the driveway?

Tim carries his three-year-and-four-month-old

American passport up towards the jam tree

heavy with ants feeding on scale insects’

honey dew, lovingly and protectively tended,

like the nation he is of but doesn’t belong to,

nationless on five acres; I tend this abyss,

I tend the places spirits emerge, land, pirouette

like smoke and différance