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,
Here: inhale a shiver
from the sediment in the flute.
Noises off? Ha.
selves are fit to kill
us with their chuckles.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gregory Dally has been published in JAAM, Meanjin, Sport, Takahe and other journals.