Into a glass
the great spillways
stung over swinging
strung beyond sonic
in the sapphire spew.
The coldest, the bluest
any deeper would be
out of breathing;
whirling straightawry
hurdling home to Oz.
Product of zinc pennies, ration stamps,
shoulder pads and "Mary Janes".
Notebook paper aeroplanes
swoop down between tired tenements,
ramming lead-gray garbage can worlds.
Ten years past the pubic hair and higher up
on co-op rooftops: paper cups and
cocktail napkins, crunched into missiles,
pelt key-punched cesspools. Programmed places
where shit comes to rest and collect.
Walking gingerly, walking green
trying not to step too hard
on brittle bonds and riddled resolutions.
Seeking out processed air pushed through
dripping, electric - sucking air conditioners.
Cool, dry, stripped of muggy human filth.
Feels nice. For a chance moment...
blind, deaf, and oblivious... nice.
Unplanned but born, riven and torn.
Character references, come to your senses!
So many places are we from,
and bearing odd sounding names.
From what did we run away?
And to what do we still cling?
Did we break loose and move
... like brittle ball bearings,
slipping out of a rusted groove?
Next, like fireflies caught in a jar,
is that then what we became?
Is that still what we Auslanders are?
Does everything, not our strength,
eventually become our infirmity?
Does everything, not diamond-hard,
eventually fall by the wayside?
Where was the line, and was there a line
between snarling mongrels and hybrids?
How many times can we Aliens stumble
before we implode and crumble, adrift
from a Wobby Globe, back into Star Stuff,
onto and unto what once filled Galaxies,
And One Day will fill the blackest of Holes?
( The �melting pot�, assimilation, and Jewish identity. )