The idea here is to look up on skyscrapers
of greater beauty are hard to find, especially
fine is the one of sandpaper colour
on the way down to ROCKS,
a bit lonely, perhaps, and not at all insolent:
it resembles a smile
that spreads upwards
in the mist, storey
after storey
It is going on all the time; crowds of men
in suits and ties scampering about
in and out of traffic
as though searching for lost
wives, or just chasing around
in hope of something else
A small nail
unexpectedly pokes its way
through the sole of my sandal,
as though playing a prank, but
it hurts just the same even in Sydney
– a very short nail
causing as much pain as possible
by stretching its back
It makes no difference
if you are on your way
here or there, it
speaks plainly: time
is short also, people
seldom stand motionless as though
photographed in the act of living
*
The next day is even newer
I walk across a couple of bridges,
fairly well adjusted
to both the hilly terrain
and the past
which has, in spite of everything,
hidden itself in facades and law statutes
This walk through a city
which is nothing like
what I expected it to be
when I stood in the darkness of a woodshed
hunting for a timid piece of pine
to thaw my February soul with
Suddenly, and now it is evening
the street number takes on a whole new meaning
and under a railway bridge, there in Sydney,
a lone man stands and fills his trombone
with a whole continent’s longing: the sky
is delicate blue!