Monday, 20 July 2015

Ode to the poets

Sharon and Olds and Paul Kane. Photo by Renee Jackson, Mildura 2015.
by Sue Gillett 
They speak, the poets
and we drink their words
and I at least wish I could be
as eloquent
wish I could crack that secret code
(that is no code)
that unbolts words and grants them godlike entrance into
wounds and worse
to more than soothe, to soar
above or through, into
somewhere beyond terrestrial space
into this other space of knowing we can almost hear
flowering or raining at the edges of
our listening

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