Hard.
You hit the gym.
Hard.
You come home.
Whacked.
The next day
you hit the pool
old school.
Do four or five laps.
See a familiar face.
Yak.
Do five more.
Acupuncture yr back
with warm air bubbles.
Loosen up.
Slack.
Gym. Pool.
Mix. Match.
Gotta do workouts
else you blow
your stack.
Crick
My girl friend has bequeathed me
her old walking stick
as a parting gift;
It may help, she says, with the crick
in your walk but sadly, she adds,
it may help little with the crick
in yr mind.
Ouch ! that was a bit unkind
but you’d have to say as a parting shot
that was as good as it got.
I left you behind.
What was I thinking?
Where was my head?
I feared the worst.
But guess what?
The sky didn’t fall,
the ground open up,
the dead rise gibbering
from their graves.
The walk was uneventful.
A brisk breeze hurried me along.
I got caught up in the rhythm.
I forgot all about you,
But when I get home, there you are
on the lounge table where I left you
dark and surly, not a welcome bone
in yr body.
Don’t worry, I say, to appease it,
I won’t forget you again
then check for any missed messages.
The Very Small Journey
I remember when I was a kid at Our Lady Queen of Peace
I used to visit this kid, this boy my age, who lived on the same street
as me,
Avro Avenue.
He had polio and lived inside an iron lung.
Only his head showed.
I tried to speak to him, to say light-hearted things
But didn’t know what to say.
When mum asked, How was Warren, I’d say, same as usual
which was true
You don’t change much in an iron lung.
You don’t go to church meetings, or go on camps, or get to meet girls.
Lucky he wasn’t claustrophobic.
I prayed to God I wouldn’t get polio.
Warren died that winter. I got to go to the funeral.
From an iron lung to a coffin.
It wasn’t much
Of a journey.
Later when I became a secondary teacher of English
we got to read perhaps the most famous polio story of all
certainly in Australia’
‘I Can Jump Puddles’
A whole generation of Aussie kids got to read
and love Alan’s book.
Please read Bartholomew Barker’s post on Polio.
It got me to repost mine.
The Difference Between Patti Smith and Me.
I’m on the ‘M Train’ again going around for another ride. I am caught in its thrall. I’m at the very early part where Pattie wakes from a dream.
This is what she says: Opening my eyes, I rose, staggered into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face in one swift motion’. I WOULD NEVER DO THAT, It would be HOT water or nothing !
But what she does next I would do again and again.: ‘I slid on my boots. fed the cats, grabbed my watch cap and old black coat and headed out towards the road many times taken, across the wide avenue to Bedford Street and a small Greenwich Village café,’
I will sit with here there on the next page,
Bendy Books
I don’t like a bendy book.
I am reading a bendy book now.
The book WILL NOT stay open unless you force it
with both hands.
Strong hands,
Why do some publishers still mAke bendy books ?
Brand new books from the library are prone to this.
The book I am reading now would try the patience of a saint.
It is a book of interviews run by my son Paul with various Buddhist monks
[Please form an orderly queue if you wish to purchase a copy] J
Half of it is in German and half in English.
Both halves are bendy.
It is hard to be serene and meditative if the book keeps wanting to close on you.
Couldn’t the publisher have done better?
It’s the sort of experience that turns readers to ebooks
I blew it up.
My sister popped it
in the middle
of the room
Who would have thought
a thing so placid
could contain
so much boom.
The Arrival.
My youngest daughter and I arrive on the front porch.
We have been invited.
The door opens.
The dogs,
Bella and Blaze
big as bears,
tornado towards the door,
erupt in a barrage of barks.
“What’s wrong with you?” I say.
“Do you not know us?
We’re family.
We were here yesterday.
You have the memory of goldfish!” I scold.
The master of the house gives them each a bone.
They quieten down, slink off in a corner
to contemplate
my reprimand.
“Goldfish,bah !” Bella humphs.
The Cracks.
The cracks are starting to appear.
Perhaps I’m standing too near.
The past catches up with one.
It’s something you can’t outrun.
But to see you crumbling like this.
When did it start? What did we miss?
The kids are getting worried too.
What are we to do with you?
Preen
See how even the dowdy ibis
preens its feathers
in the park.
Work with what you’ve got.
Look sharp.
John Malone 
You must be logged in to post a comment.