In the harsh noon the bellbird sounds its chastest note. Note
how ants sleep,
and locusts sleep: when they wake they forget what
they wanted to give themselves
to. Behave as in an imaginary library,
one that you carry through the bush, collecting overdue loans
with a beneficent
smile, and nodding at the phrase ‘search terms’. You
know what’s searched most. There
may be no god, nor money either.
Yet we work for both sunup till down. Some trace it back
to St Augustine,
but that’s hardly necessary (for us). You are one, and
will be two soon enough. There
are young red bucks, there are golden
does, there are sex-doves under the mistletoe. I call them hornets,
of naught. It’s a popular vein. ‘Get your thighs dirty.’
You understand your own body’s
music, not the rudeness of that company.
Michael Farrell has edited a feature for ecopoetics journal. He researches unsettled ecologies in Australian poetry. An article on Christopher Brennan can be read here: http://www.nla.gov.au/openpublish/index.php/jasal/article/viewArticle/2257. Michael’s recent books are open sesame (Giramondo) and enjambment sisters present (Black Rider).