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a large population

Posted on 08/12/202121/02/2022 by Dean English

on moss coated blocks of contoured concrete
a fawn fence, weathered at the top, is warping, 
twisting nails out, moving at the speed of glacial growth
and overhung in places 
with the dark palatial flowers 
Kowhai cascades. bloom-peak reached.
ti Kouka pom pom with seed.

at the gym, I wear a mask 
to enter, and to leave.
it’s doorways where the pathogens are trapped? 

a mixed bunch gathers in our chat.
hardly are we hesitant, adamant in fact.
the requirements of regulatory acts 
alert Perceiving of an Instance…the racks 
of cooled tech, circuit board, 
cities full of chips, processors stalled in ships
bottled necked in ports in the U.S.

deep-learning lately features at the Flicks
(I suppose they used to flicker)
On is on, it isn’t I.T. 
intelligence in systems, the crypts 
of recognition, at the gym, 
a mask to enter, and to leave, so 
it’s the jabbed most as risk from a disease?

doorways where the pathogens are trapped.

.

is cultic, how linguistic memes are trapped.

who so loved the world, that virgin party 
girl, that jealous guy, or god—that airline, 
offering, fairly odd, space travel
or travail, the scent is off, 
we’re hardly here at all, 
spider webs suspending jumbo jets.

jumbo fuel and hypersonic sets
two tonne of bricks
suspended by a single human hair. 

made of barely anything 
how much we are not here.

.

abseilers hang off climbing ropes
drilling spots to fix the wire mesh
an emptiness which holds in every Thing.

whose sides are made of what a centre loves.
the weight & both the weightlessness of Earth 
the planet, earth the soil, & the wetness of a grape.

the ball hangs by a thread and doesn’t break, 
water stays in coves. Light speeds, but how 
does something massless move?

.

the stone inside the apricot, 
that code inside that stone.
who I think of as myself
quark-fast and heaviness 

I catch him looking back
and he gets such a fright
a sense of barely anything.
heard enough. tonight.

I need the extra density
some god above it all—
the role of kings and popes 
and presidents, these residents 
rule with only strength of human hair.

rodents are irregular; they care;
their young experience all the playfulness
required of a slow-develop Mammal
but how about that Turtle!

buried in its shell inside the sand.
first off, right out from the starting blocks,
a manic sprint into the omni(|)cean
born knowing some things want it. 

.

the stillness to enjoy in rumination 
the silence in us noticing 
the utter lack of any actual stillness

Time, leaves, like minutes, days
dissolve back back back into the seconds, 
it is decades since the brown coins were flattened 

on the hot polished railway tracks
sky dissolved in trees and roots express it
the clock shows work, the feedback loop, 

the afternoon and night, pathetic 
yellow eyes, then red, staring through an edginess 
and throat burn, acid bile retching 

determined I can binge the voiding core
and spread an open emptiness within;
at dawn I had to walk the 8K’s, more 

or less, without my boots, they were lost, 
left somewhere at the house of the woman 
with the tattoo of her name, a compass scar

with pen ink leaked into the gouge. 
I crept out quiet as she slept. 
the macrocarpa old and dense 

a wind break square around the yard
my wholeness in repair
my emptiness too dense

and I think I get why people scar 
names into the soft wood of their trunks.

.

in the sun, and then the rain
below the old tarpaulin
bottles clink, touching 
the long weekend 

another long weekend—two, 
long weekends, sequentially, 
green and white and boats 
on trailers, well looked after

fellowship, serrated rip 
the spirit bottles give
the pitter patter
rain drops, hissing drops

on charcoal, hotplates,
hellos spoken, strangers
share comparing thought
woman loosened freely talk

on bottles, cups, and cones
and pills, the short 
and sweet wine bottles
given in the 80’s

each one a starting pistol 
expressing all I wanted 
and having given up, 
so goodbye to all that 

alco-holy calm 
and…Hello, my 
name is Dean, 
and I’m a telepathic 

fortune teller
for I know that very soon
the contents in the vessel 
will control my epistle. 

bottles toast the long week’s end
recent mows on cricket fields
sprinklers in the rain
I do not think a player 

out of tune or time
with the orchestra 
is inconsistent with the wail
from innumerable microcosms 

Sound is sung from itself. 
infant turtles are carried off 
by parent gulls to feed 
to their hungry chicks.

if Today can show us Tomorrow
may Now be all you need

of Time, folded upon itself 
like pages in a novel—

pencil point, heartbeat, 
glass of water, good sleep.

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4 thoughts on “a large population”

  1. Pingback: 2stanford
  2. emjay emjay says:
    21/12/2021 at 6:38 am

    A real roller coaster with a sudden ending that made me smile. Thanks for sharing.

    Log in to Reply
  3. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:
    17/12/2021 at 10:42 am

    Amazing! Thanks for the exploration of consciousness past and present through all its tendrils, Dean, and the lines chopping short like the strokes of a cleaver on a board. The closing is resounding:

    if Today can show us Tomorrow
    may Now be all you need

    of Time, folded upon itself
    like pages in a novel—

    pencil point, heartbeat,
    glass of water, good sleep.

    Log in to Reply
    1. Dean English Dean English says:
      17/12/2021 at 7:25 pm

      Thank you, Peter, these longer poems I always think I’ve overwritten, Finding a balance between catharsis and poetry is always an interesting challenge

      Log in to Reply

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