William Direen

The town has shut up. It’s too early to open.
The need to forget the stories of our lives.
The slow-burning passage to your door.
This is the flower and the receptacle.
Now we are saying the first thing that comes into our heads.

Now I am with numbers opposite and inverted.
Now I am with windows waving inwards.
Now I am this self, leaving messages for that one.
Now I am with pots plastic and earthen.
Now I am wearing nothing, an overcoat, a building.
I am the whistle on a footpath of an unknown tune.
A gathering of cloud-birds above an unknown continent.
Now I am two-toned like convertibles and emergencies.
Now I am with child, without you, without a clue under the gaze of hoardings.
Now I know!
Now I know—
Now I know three people!
Now I know three people.

Now a day of mishaps eating our journeys.
Now our actors are speaking out of character.
For this is the flower and the receptacle,
The slow-burning passage to your door,
The need to forget the stories of our lives.

_ _

William Direen is a New Zealand writer and performer (as "Bill Direen"). His writing ranges from auto-fiction to science fiction. He edits the magazine Percutio and manages music group The Bilders, and lives in Dunedin, New Zealand.

>> Back to Issue 21, 2018

Published by Pen and Anvil Press


ISSN 2150-6795
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