The Argotist Online
Kloogerís poetry has been published in Australian and international online and
print journals. Recently his work has appeared in The Liberal, Harvest,
dotdotdash, Words-Myth and Pure Francis. His other interests are
music and philosophy. His book on the ideas of the Greek-French philosopher
Cornelius Castoriadis was published in 2009.
emotions always elude you, leave you
and oceanic. You slop around
that still private tempest, hugging
surface of things. Self-diagnosis is
superstition, a necessary evil.
tender words can sometimes soothe
do not heal. Tonight again you know
wordless sorrow of beasts.
that kingdom you can never reach
half fish and half fowl
together, devour their own children,
merry while the earth heaves up its bile.
goes on forever, an infinite loop, the dragon swallowing its own tail,
my arms when they stretch to encompass what I love.
I look back, all I see are numbers, squirming
though alive. I imagine some invisible string, tying us together,
our perpetual partnership. Beneath, exposed,
wave at me. A wave is all
time for, as, swift and efficient,
shoot into the dark future. My oblique passage
brings me again into that far-off light. The comfort
repetition, knowing what comes next
be what came before. Since everything changes, the madman says,
is nothing, and nothing so peaceful
when a monster sleeps. I push again
the reach, the stretch of muscle and tendon.
sea-wall is like a prayer for mercy, the centre
whirlpool, the world a wish
into its swirling heart.
Fat caterpillar souls, wrinkled and wet, glistening
the new light, we rest because we must, endure
hope to outlast the morningís sudden bombardment.
sunshine is a blessing, newly discovered and inviting,
as a dream salvaged from darkness.
wraps itself around us, like roll upon roll
swaddling love. Contentment is fuel for fires
spring like beacons from the earth, lighting the way
stragglers. Weaving their way home, they turn back for a moment
lasts forever, succumbing without fuss
the destiny of their resting state. Incongruous
the age of long-distance liaisons, undressed by speed,
and undergarments billowing in the wind,
fumble and pick their halting path
the future, while shards of incendiary sky
down on their shelterless heads.
in Babylon of old
fragrant groves and towers to the sun
the mind, and stretch our dreams
world shows its anatomy
sunís fingertips, an insectís song
aligned like tuning forks
feast of pecks
litter of fine patterns tumbles
sprout new senses and ancient organs
back where they once belonged
sweet Earth parts her lips
breathes a benediction
© Jeff Klooger