Poetry by
Gregory McIntyre

Everywhere I look the stillness is sick I can see my death written in it, in it

The end table the doily the iron the nail the mantle the bed the curtain the rail The exhausted mirror the sliding door the spare bathroom the tiled floor

Everywhere I look the stillness is sick I can see my death written in it, in it

words came thick and fast in my past off the cuff from the pen it was easier then

chatter chat chat went the typewriter flat out and spat out my words, again and again

chatter chat ding the typewriter would sing way back then when I sat and kept back not a thing

now many years later I kept the cheese grater the chatter chat chat is a sound from the past

now many years later it’s a sound I can’t hear yet nothing else sounds so sweet to my ear

Fresh air and gums, green and black Land becomes heart becomes land That’s how it works, I understand

But darling, know If I ever lived here I’m doubtful I’d make it a year

The wind is the thing That would get me I fear

It roars in the night And without you I might Come unhitched Come untethered Come unmoored

In the morning I’d be no more Just a stained coffee cup and an open door

I know my limits They’re the same as the city’s It’s not the buildings or the roads But the people in it

The people The people The people are home

But out here living on my own? One heart is only so tough And sometimes one heart is not strong enough

Oh, much loved soldier In dog saliva Oh, heroic sewn soldier With mystery stains Oh, stripey brown warrior At the end of your tether Oh, smiling grim champ Oh, rope filled brave

Duty to the last We honour your past Your squeaky head where he did cleave-ya Oh, nondescript mammal In your hard spit enamel What even are you? Like, a beaver?

My therapist told me to write my thoughts My therapist told me to process and move on

My pen has frozen above the page My pen appears to have run out of ink

A memory a toxin A toxin a drug

Did you write your thoughts? my therapist asks Did you process and move on?

Yes, I say brightly

I bricked over it all I kept all of it, all of it I wrote you into my walls

I can push charcoal into any hip Chiaroscuro shade any lip

I can drag particles of dark Around any stark form Form a voluptuousness From her belly and light

Canberra nights, secret evenings Behind closed doors Winking light from the drapes Naked forms taking shape

But her hair But her hair How to render her hair

Not a thumb Not a smudge Not a twist Not a wash

Not a scratch Not a line Like the arch of her brow Or the curve of her spine

Her hair, her hair Its lustrous sheen, flowing over her breast None can decipher Not even our best

how’s it going with that new chick?

  the plot is thick   she is intrigue itself   like me, she’s a poet!   her angles sublime   in time I will woo her   I’ll incline her to me   her feelings besot

is she hot?

  the warmth of her nature   is sunlight in summer   her smile alone is a fiery thing   a telephone call from her   a forecast of spring   I’d brave any dark winter   if only to woo her

telephone? mate, did ya even do ’er?

  would I dare?   to place me in there   in her frame   in a place where I   might brashly darken   her burgeoning fame?

that’s lame. so you haven’t?

  what have I?   have I what?   could I be?   could I not?   could I hope to raise a thumb   to her negative space   which fluctuates   at scales at which   my instruments fail?

no tail? you mean you couldn’t get it up?

  I am heightened, my cup   overfloweth, I’ve dispensed   with pleasantries   my peers don’t know me hence   every planetary globe of grass points   to where I wander on high   the very air   my only alibi

did ya even try? grass? you did weed?

  oh hush now you see   my condition, a weed   that is innocent   but for displaced position   like my feelings did flee   to be by her bosom, where they   lost all claim to naiveté

yeah, right. okay. cool man. that’s cool.

I’ve been waiting thirty minutes now For you to go to the bathroom and brush your teeth Thirty seconds a side With me poised at the corner waiting For you raise a cup to your lips And drink                         Wind Tears prick your eyes                         Passes You snort                         From MY BUTTOCKS A spray of water hits the mirror Pffffffffffffttttt Toothpaste flecked mirror, snorting, crying DAD you scream and dribble WHAT THE FLIPPING HELL!

Outside fair Woolworths we lay our scene, where civil rights make civil hands unclean

WASH MY FUCKIN’ HANDS???

YOU reprimand ME YOU dare to demand ME ME, who paid taxes To get TWO FUCKIN’ VAXES And scan a QR code Before I can go load My trolley with Solo Double salted prosciutto Sebago Potatoes Two kilos Brushed white?

IT’S MY SOVEREIGN FUCKIN’ RIGHT To blow bits of spittle To push past you pitiful Pimply teenager Stanning dictators Your rules are for sheeple Not for sovereign people

Call your manager, go on I’ll punch on and prove wrong He’s a communist, hold on He’ll sing a brand new song

I’m a citizen under the law You want more? See this flyer I got from the net for you liars PROOF TRUMP’S THE MESSIAH!!!!!!

Masks make you gasp Can’t your puny mind Grasp how you ask A elder, a man of my age Who worked hard for a living Who brought home a wage- To- To- Hnnnn

His face turns to ash and he clutches his chest And what happens next is probably for the best

Since lockdown ended I’ve Lain in the deep end and Looked up to see you A tangle of limbs

Light bounces like rainbows Your kind face refracted Perfect teeth but beneath Bent this way and that

Distant squeals of delight Friends chase friends and hunt you Warm sun summer partner They’re calling you now

Add a single poem to the information superhighway A drop of colour From the tip of your tongue Into a fast moving river Will anybody see it Be enveloped Merged A wink in time I doubt it But maybe Some gormless soul Sitting with fluorescent face Some highway sitter Will spot it

it’s raining softly like don’t mind me just quiet rain just water

for the silverbeet for the parsley for the basil the birds

it needn’t worry you rosy cheeked babe noisy and bright tumbling about please don’t worry about me it’s just water

the sun rises to set the scene I am spread out on the bed obscene the fly screen’s busted blood’s encrusted my foot it took a shard from the dish you hurled at me from several paces missing and smashing against the wall

(the next one didn’t miss at all)

and though I still feel your warm embrace when I dithered and wondered if I really needed the space and your lip slowly curled and your eyes slowly curdled and you slipped from my grasp

(and looked at me like I’d murdered)

and though last night’s sounds surround my bed, I wince at the way I remember you said when I went for my keys, “Oh God fuck no please”

(queasy you looked, as you looked back at me)

I slide out of bed and limp to the bath and pink swirls its lazy way to the drain and okay, maybe that could have gone better I find the dustpan to clean shards away

(and outside my window it’s starting to rain)

the man on the TV in emotional strains while standing alone in a scene monotone of bone dry black stumps says if only we’d known says of the black summer, unprecedented extraordinary loss, the country’s in pain

(but I can’t help but notice, the smoke’s blown away and outside my window it’s starting to rain)

the frappy ones with wings are frighty scaredy fings they quack and honk and jump the sky when I come by they jump up high they frap their wings and they retreat and reave for me brown tasty treats

nomomomomomomomomom

Lying around, we talked about our favourite songs We watched one with kabuki masks spinning towards the screen Terrifying A woman sitting on a giant leaf eating a red powder Powder on her fingers Powder on her tongue

Lyrics like

  Take the heat   I don’t trust   Those wild horses

It was about a father wanting his daughter to shoot her rapists It changed key and I woke up weeping

what would Scandi TV detectives say if they came to the house while we were away?

they’d wear trench coats and hardened faces they’d measure the distance in detective paces from the front door to your bags on the floor they’d photograph the corridor

they’d note our tea cups nestled together the doona imprints, the inclement weather, the line of clothes to the bedroom door where they’d photograph a little more

one would shoot the other a look the other’d respond in kind would he arch a single brow or would it just be in his mind?

no murders here, they’d close their books just two lovers by the looks

i’ll hide behind my red gingham shawl don’t find my rind with your unkind mind

seal these lips i’m not all jelly don’t feel my peel the bitter is real

some days we wake as gods

muscular physique mind eclipses reality we float down streets transcendent every dream is in reach

we saw your profile, your wet eyes, through a window we stepped towards the door with certain mind to liberate you from your confused situation

that summer I lost a house and a car but I kept a bed to hide in for a year

that summer I howled all night like a beast or I danced all night frenetic and senseless

that summer I caught the bus to see you and sat with you in the light all the way home

that summer all my friends became pictures glowing images scrolling silently up

I suppose I did the same trick to them and they looked around sadly asking themselves

  where is he really?   we only have his photograph

but you know, I think they knew where I’d gone that I had opened a tiny door, inside and had followed myself through it