Lotus Flute


If that evil dude Loeb
could purport to seek the universal

language, then mark us all ‘learners’.
Theorize. Yes. Of drink, nutrition.

In a lemongrass and pumice ball, smell 
the flowers, the earth that might

yet constitute a world.
And, hell, your quaffing action, one

that sends you off to alternatives, to a half–
way house of holies — oh,

just call the stein a goblet,
and be done with staying upright.

Remember Hamlet censuring
the hammy troupe of players

against the dangers rife
in overacting? Where did it get him?

Let this repertory 
flourish; tease the silence.

Riccarton Bush is amove.
Birnam Wood, it sneaks up

and grows karamu,
the bugger…

Here: inhale a shiver
from the sediment in the flute.

Noises off? Ha.
Our parallel

selves are fit to kill
us with their chuckles.


Gregory Dally has been published in JAAMMeanjinSportTakahe and other journals.