Tuesday, May 13, 2008


We walk home from Boundary Street. A hot night has brought people to their front steps. They talk, drink a little, laugh quietly. Some say hello.
from the next street
Yothu Yindi’s
deep notes
We turn at Mick’s Nuts and slow our pace. Sweat trickles as we climb the hill. We pass the line of restaurants and conversation mixes with conversation, music replaces music. At the corner rembetika then a pentatonic flute.

Ganges Street, Jumna Street, Hoogley Street. We go an extra block to walk along the river bank. The water seems black glass.

over the river
Achernar and Canopus –
early summer stars
Leaves of the fig trees reflect street lights, yellow and blue. A ferry passes with reverberating diesel . . . thirty seconds later the wash hisses on the bank.

At home we sit on the steps and drink cold wine. The cat joins us. Next door Ernesto tunes his guitar.

guests gone
my neighbour plays
the oldest argentine songs

by Ron Heard
Brisbane, Qld., Australia
first published in paper wasp 10, spring 2004

1 comment:

len welch said...

i'd like to like these.

the anecdotes just aren't very interesting.

the three line poems really come off as afterthoughts.

there seems to be alot of really promising story material here
that becomes stunted due to
this "form."

len welch