Two of the Clock -- Go To Bed, Damn It
Looper, who is a MacArthur Genius, told me she used something I wrote in an email, in a poem. I said that then she should dedicate it to me (I was just trying to make trouble), but the poem is dedicated to the dead friend who inspired it. However, I'm happy to be so honored.
Because It Looked Like The Picture I Took in There
I spent time trying to find a picture my brother took of me being attacked by a mob of kangaroos once when we went out on his boat for three days to whatchamacallem lakes in Victoria. The water was so shallow in areas Steven had to heel the boat to reduce the draught so we wouldn't become stuck. We went through passages from one large water body to the next at a highly fraught 45 degrees angle. Anyway, it was winter, and coldish, and we stopped at a little deserted island with large signs reading: DO NOT FEED THE KANGAROOS. Who wanted to -- not I. However, my brother, claiming it would make for a better photograph, stuffed a load of bread in my hand, then backed off. I was immediately surrounded by a bazillion animals all slathering at the sight of white bread. I couldn't fling the bread at them fast enough -- no, I was actually bitten -- the damnable things drew blood. I was looking for THAT picture and couldn't find it, although I found one of my brother imitating the kangaroos. Once at an injured-animal place on... what? Green Island? anyway, Queensland, I was talking with the keeper when a wallaby started humping my leg. I nonchalantly shook my leg harder and harder trying to dislodge it, until I shook so hard it flew off across the compound. The keeper paid no attention so perhaps it was something the wallaby did to everyone.