In the half-lit dawn
a dozen lorikeets are busy breakfasting on spiky red bottlebrush blooms.
How they manage to swallow anything is a mystery
for they never cease chattering to each other.
An incredible tongue, keetish, full of subtle gurgles,
murmurs, squeaks, squawks, whistles, craws…
There is hearing happening here
but no listener can be found.
Methinks the lorikeets are likewise
yet their conversations are clearly a dialogue
and often a duet.
I love the way they stop for a snog,
whispering their sweet-nothings awhile
then heading back to the tucker-task.
The svelte yogini who folded herself up lotus-like
Here sits a woman with a knee the size of a football,
legs sticking straight out in unapologetic
senses checking in with the now-this-here:
– an upstairs neighbor snoring
– a gearing-up truck roaring
– feathered friends twittering
– body-beat pulsing
– the golden sun rising
– the candle flame dancing
– tiny toads hopping
– palm fronds gently swaying
– a mangled leg aching
– a left buttock numbing
– a concern for parents tightening
– then releasing
Life is ing-ing everywhere
and it seems to this ‘me’-ing be-ing
to live is to ‘-ing’!
raining softly puddling
greenly guzzling growing
peeing neighbor relieving
flushing toilet emptying
impatient traffic up-gearing
fountain pen scribbling
steaming tea sipping
‘I’ is the ing-ing of the world
just this, right now, right here
always at home
what a way
to start a day!
anything to report?
only apparent things apparently reported
by an apparent reporter to an apparent reader
since one apparent thing
is as good as another:
pigeons coo and bob
shadows flicker and fade
sun burns into the dawn
hand writes unthought words
thoughts think it’s miraculous
bum numbs on scrawny zafu
and inseparable from the display of appearances
something unknowable yet known
the nameless name