Dingoes nowhere to be seen, coloured earth behind A mound of dirt, spectator stop, hopefully nevertheless. Humans are worthier of observation many intonations, with emphasis on the first question, surprise without interest they sing, mournful of thwarted desire. An effort to pique the animals interest of emerging enigmatic repose. teenagers quips as he passes, howls & claps call for the attention of the enclosure. A cypress pine extract alerts the dingo. something alerts the taunt sprout of grain & various gaits that include A lively trot, directing his walk and A point to alert the nose forward. Attending to business, watching or chasing birds, staring at onlookers, or joining each other to investigate A gait of something important, people congregate with A scat to pause for emphasis each is clear that each dingo is acutely aware of the totally attuned & presence of the kind of howl without the other Tell me these slender dingoes havent been born in captivity or have A good chance of survival in the central district A habitat of journey beyond the scats of bone, abundant to the fox or two A rugged terrain of wild wallabies & abundance of kangaroos I am told only feral dogs know no aptitude of any guide. longstanding settlers shot by local farmers. Rejected conformations achieved much baiting of A vegetated mind still surreal to the weekly errands that neither does legislation, even more effective methods still reside in the rugged terrain of nomination, listed as threats A mystery. Within A private boundary, certain kilometres no longer protected is another mystery of manslaughter. Hybrids of the classes still threatened. Extinguishing what I cannot see perseveres, free from circumstances, by that other apex. Ironically I think of vitality of A pastorial life that narrates the part of A dingoes A herd sung not from life but from coats that sing while poems surround the green and dying over the fence. A step into the streets of survival A watching on howling for that prescribe enclosure of records. still as A statue but alerts the birds that, A clay pan filled with lies & the wallabies next door cannot scent the wind without the direction lying behind the driveway, A quality of perseverance flatten by the muzzle of A different mend of regard. So sheep & cattle dubbed the road free from the warren fields. Ironically does A drop dead gorgeous smut of A teacher know when circumstances apex round the predator. Ironically the fox still had the last word, amongst the herd of the glorified, another dayboy advance symphony of childless state of geriatrics watching whilst sipping their tainted empty cup of philosophy. I walk fast, not paying any attention I around hes still there, waiting to cross or at an intersection clever at heel. Waiting when I do. With all the brine, I stop & listen the distant whine the orient of my past. I look back across the road, his setting on the other side, perhaps unwilling to step again onto this edge of his terra. Im nether unhappy nor happy, there he is again my shadow. A very quiet slap of water against my line of insight from wharf I stop to listen my hopeful smile returns the face of the day, one strange blue eye, quiet & patient, the other reads for determination. Far of from the swine generals back the voices sandwich men sugared sellers set the reverse of that terminal record to time. Thankfully the found excuse lowers itself beside my blinking sight feet dashed from the sun once before the Inspector left. peep peep peeping who packs their goods of other consideration. An old man appears in A rowing boats slight eye seems opalescence, it looks cloudy with quiet determination..... We set of together in the empty streets gulls ahead not paying attention to his intercross ahead not paying to the other side.
Posted on: Wed, 26 Nov 2014 07:14:22 +0000
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