Poetry

December 21, 2005

And Suddenly

And suddenly
where there were feet
there were none.

Just feathers,
flames and
fish-cakes.

He smiled.
Summer was great.

Posted by Martin McKenzie-Murray at 2:19 PM

June 10, 2005

She Sends Kisses

Love was arrested
On a Tuesday.

I was making
lemon trifle
and listening to
The Pixies
when I heard.

''According to police sources,
love was arrested earlier today,
captured in an abandoned
warehouse.''

''Strange,'' I muttered.

Posted by Martin McKenzie-Murray at 4:51 PM | Comments (1)

June 7, 2005

Fremantle

You did not know him --
but I did
... a little.
His name was Adam,
but what is a name?

The coffin knew more
than I
or you

Because

The coffin contained
his hair
& honey-swirl;
it held his lightly decayed flesh
and
embalming fluid.

It humbly announced
his sins
and
absence of potential
for sin.
It shared his molecules,
his eyes,
his moon and
waters.

It knew more than I, or you
and

afterwards, we ate fish and chips
in front of the ocean
and we spoke of him --
watching the waves
and silence
and hating our words because
they knew so little.

We watched a seagull land,
and quietly,
we wished we could be so smart.

Posted by Martin McKenzie-Murray at 8:20 PM | Comments (3)

April 22, 2005

My Friend is Sick

my friend is sick --
sodden with airplane fuel,
his socks are damp and his
shoes go ''squelch, squelch,
squelch'' whenever he moves,
which is not
often.

airplane fuel
is a metaphor
of course, but
for what
I'm not sure ...

his self-conviction
has unhappily melted away,
and joins the fuel
on his shirt
in thick globules.
he does not have
the strength
to clean it up.
I drink beer with him
and eat
turkey sandwiches
I do not mind the smell
because
he is beautiful,
like bumblebees
and
fresh cucumber.

it will get better,
I tell him
spilling mustard on my shirt.

Posted by Martin McKenzie-Murray at 11:54 AM | Comments (1)

April 21, 2005

Poem for CM Killen

i have a beer in one hand &
a banana in
the other

the beer says: ''please take another
sip''.
so I do.
the banana says: ''please take another
bite''.
so I do.
the beer, feeling confident, says:
''we should do this more often''
and I say
sure
the banana, being smarter than the
beer and far smarter than
me
says: ''why were you with her anyway?''
and I say:

shuddup.

Posted by Martin McKenzie-Murray at 1:57 PM

Michael & Paul

Michael and Paul are very young
Michael is 9
brother Paul
is 7.

They say, after we have
climbed trees, thrown balls
eaten chips and bought
Summer and hot-dogs,
They say: ''Let's climb trees again'' and I say
''Okay''
because
I know about what they don't.
About rape and smoke and rocket science
About politicians and
the ordinary wasps in human's hearts.

When the sun goes down they say: ''Please tuck us in''
and I say
Okay.

Posted by Martin McKenzie-Murray at 11:24 AM

Listen

Listen: there was a boy who
attended my school;
he was younger than me
and wore thick, black glasses.
he never cried
but always looked sad
because
he was a prophet of beetles and bees.

On a wet Tuesday
he was crumpled
by a car going
too fast.
his parents carried
his little black coffin
on their backs.

On Wednesday
we were in the playground
looking at girls
and fruit.
''What was his name?'' Mikey asked.
''Dunno. Dead but,'' said Tommy.
''Third-grade?'' Mikey asked.
''Think so,'' Chris said, picking his
nose.

Posted by Martin McKenzie-Murray at 11:22 AM

it was only a coincidence

it was only a coincidence
that the sky was blue
like a thousand dead princes
& the sun
was full.

it was just dumb luck
that the bare trees
against the blue sky
looked like wonderful
headstones
designed by Escher.

& it was pure chance
that we were in a yellow car
in the country
& the roads flowed
like squirrels
in love

& on the radio
a dead singer
sung.

you did not say
it was over
with your mouth
or your eyes
or your hands

rather
it was in the space
between us
sharing breathy units
of existence
with the dead singer,
the yellow paint,
the country road
the headstones
the sun &

the many dead princes

Posted by Martin McKenzie-Murray at 10:44 AM | Comments (1)

April 19, 2005

& in the winter...

And in the winter
when snails climb
bombs
You left.
And I could find nothing to write about
except
hangovers and the weather and
blackbirds.

The snails tell me there are worse ways
to live
&

sometimes I believe them.

Posted by Martin McKenzie-Murray at 10:42 AM

if you are

if you are looking
for Summer
then come closer.

it can be here
or there
or in your sock drawer.
that girl
with the red-hair
and dragon-fly
laugh
who works behind
the counter
at the deli --
she may have it.
or I or
you
or

that apricot.