Spinning Wheels
(Merrindahl Andrew)

Posted on February 15, 2014 by in Heightened Talk

Plane in the skySpinning wheels in wet ruts,
the spray of muddy water:
rainbows.

I would love to, I would love to
I would love to, I will never.

Who’s at home to worry now?
Cups are cold though the beams
are sweet with the smoke
of joints long gone out.
Who makes the chai
and watches a clove fall
into the bench-top gap?

I will never, I will never
I will never, I don’t mind.

A white plane in the clearing
gum-top blue
drags a scentless vapour tail.
So far off, airports, action, commerce
competence, sentiment, attachment
lingo, art.

Plane’s a white tablet, not to be taken.
Sun-warmed stone says so. Competence!

I don’t mind, I don’t mind
I don’t, really, I don’t mind.

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