by KRIS HEMENSLEY
9/8/2023 (1 p.m. —i am man with a bun
sitting in the sun —stalked by gull —same one
each time? daily patrol —hah! —bench & flagstones —
any human’ll do —add crumbs
to its exemplary skin & bones (truth numbs:
fat civilisation’ll be the death of us!
Richard Grossinger’s shocking description -his curse-
read Southampton ca. 1970: the flocks of sea-birds
scavenging inland rubbish-dumps testified
oceanic famine —we are the lairds
of extinction —land-lubber bards
(2-15pm Northcote Library —find Knausgaard’s WINTER:
from his window the narrator casually aware of figures
on the island-quay suddenly “understood
what was happening, that the body
they were carrying was dead,
and that they were there to ferry it
to the mainland (…) I followed the boat
with my eyes (…) as the boat
was swallowed up by all the grey, I thought
that that is exactly how death
is.” —pp 116-117, ’The Funeral Procession’