For Maneera de Mel
Looking up
from a trampoline
that stretched surface
from which we fly
we see stars
that are still
there.
Stars as permanent
as we are.
Light-years away
mortal as cells
they may already
have perished
and yet
there they are.
Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
First published in Speedpoets zine
An independent poetry journal. Watch your step.
Showing posts with label Jake Dennis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jake Dennis. Show all posts
2014/04/18
Coming Home
I dreamt this moment before:
the journey, bending down
to choose another novel,
placing The Voyage Out aside.
I sit face to face
with myself and the sky.
Sunlight, like god, is everywhere
and out of sight. I’m
propelled across a blanket
of white, beneath a flour
crescent bright as ice,
above rectangular fields
and lakes. A hundred tiny
snowflakes, snow crabs,
clutch the heavy window.
Further out, beyond,
the blue blackens to space,
that dusty vacuum, the infinite unknown,
warehouse of gaseous planets
in which Earth’s the lucky marble.
Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
First published on Vibewire
the journey, bending down
to choose another novel,
placing The Voyage Out aside.
I sit face to face
with myself and the sky.
Sunlight, like god, is everywhere
and out of sight. I’m
propelled across a blanket
of white, beneath a flour
crescent bright as ice,
above rectangular fields
and lakes. A hundred tiny
snowflakes, snow crabs,
clutch the heavy window.
Further out, beyond,
the blue blackens to space,
that dusty vacuum, the infinite unknown,
warehouse of gaseous planets
in which Earth’s the lucky marble.
Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
First published on Vibewire
Legitimated Driver
During my practical driving assessment
the officer, like a reclining father,
like a DOG licensed to be a GOD
of wheels, asks me if I need a job. The grey road,
like the question ‘So, where
are you from?’, seems strange
because I was born here.
From behind his beard and sweat-stained shirt,
like a colonial patriarch
covered with centuries
of dust, he points to a sign:
Cleaners Wanted.
Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
the officer, like a reclining father,
like a DOG licensed to be a GOD
of wheels, asks me if I need a job. The grey road,
like the question ‘So, where
are you from?’, seems strange
because I was born here.
From behind his beard and sweat-stained shirt,
like a colonial patriarch
covered with centuries
of dust, he points to a sign:
Cleaners Wanted.
Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
A Funeral
She enters late while the sun descends
like a lozenge down your throat,
she hears the Burmese monk’s prayers,
watches the deceased’s mother holding
medals, stays at the back but smells
sandalwood and varnish, grasps her purse
as twelve grey men salute the pilot,
her uncle on his final mission,
as dark advances like the ocean’s waves
and the decorated box descends.
Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
First published in Cottonmouth
like a lozenge down your throat,
she hears the Burmese monk’s prayers,
watches the deceased’s mother holding
medals, stays at the back but smells
sandalwood and varnish, grasps her purse
as twelve grey men salute the pilot,
her uncle on his final mission,
as dark advances like the ocean’s waves
and the decorated box descends.
Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
First published in Cottonmouth
Her heart slipped like jelly
Her heart slipped like jelly
qu i ver i ng into his which
wel ( come ) ed the ( delicate
s w e e t ness ) and bal ( l o o n ) ed
like BASS in an RnB LOVE song
until ( he no longer desired
the hassle ).
Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
qu i ver i ng into his which
wel ( come ) ed the ( delicate
s w e e t ness ) and bal ( l o o n ) ed
like BASS in an RnB LOVE song
until ( he no longer desired
the hassle ).
Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
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