when will the petals fall from the balustrade I'm clinging to, as I pull unsteady feet up to the landing and catch my breath? I'm still thinking about yesterday's melting where is the barricade? where's the trench and where's the parapet? I'm calling out to all the doves and all the archers I'm still drinking all of yesterday's tonic I'm still riding away, off into the background but now he's looking away from the flies in the hay and the bugs in the grain all of his vassals and claimants said 'g'day, I'm OK - I've got nothing to say' where is the key that can open the safe? I need fuel for the kiln in the courtyard who's swimming in the dam full of algae, full of mud and clay? I'm stepping on the rocks, mossy rocks which line the edge of the pool I'm still catching my breath, keeping it steady I'm holding onto the net, hauling in a big catch can't you see the barge behind me, on the edge of the sea with the sky in the background? all of the fish in the water swarm around my leg hairs, like police at the border a giant wave overwhelms me! we wrestle but it pins me to the sandstone seafloor opening my crusty eyes on the darkened edge of the rockpool seven crabs scuttle away as I lift my senseless forearms I lose my balance standing up and I slam my back on the ground on the barnacles and coral which line the edge of the rockpool seven crabs scuttle away as I yell and scream at the water I'm still eating my soup, dipping my bread in holding onto the wave, trying not to fall in where are the rats in the cargo? they're staying in the warehouse 'til they lift the embargo I wish that I knew semaphore! I'd wave my little flags around at ships from the shore a giant worm overwhelms me! we wrestle but it pins me to the wattle and daub

can you hear the helicopters overhead? a tablespoon of baking powder and a couple eggs I'm running low on some important feelings about the weather twenty kilopascals left until it pops take a right when you see bollards lined up by the camera shop I'd like to know about the sand in the aquifer now that I'm away from the train station my patience is gone how can I get off the ground now that I'm homebound? in my home I've got a man under the sink he can tell me anything I need to think I look into his eyes and he gives me a patronising wink half of what I lift each morning is my neck my head fell in the water when we were shipwrecked I can't even tell the time now that I'm floating past the train station my patients are in how can my practice be so overrun with mollusks? how can I learn about the sand inside my insides? when will I float up past the reef where we were shipwrecked? can you hear the helicopters overhead? I'm feeling sort of nervous, sort of nearly dead can you see my sunburnt shoulders, are the red? are they peeling? bleeding? or just sort of red?

show me the card you've got in your hand - is that a special rare one? I'd like another one to add to my growing collection some other man could take my hand and teach me how to change the other one I've always thought a lot about how the things we hold are people how many times they've been thrown around and made and un-made again a lot of men have made again and made amends and made and mended all my bedsheets a million men have waned and wended, changed and turned around and bended I've always kept some sandpaper here in my bag for emergencies a sandstone man stands by the bike path on the hill by the ocean show me the love you've got in your hand - is it a special true one? I'd like to hear about all the snails on the wall by the kiosk two sandy hands hold a bottle of sunscreen