Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Poem of a Purely Local Hero

An earlier poem -- always a pleasure to work
at something playful:


Reading in my slippers
I follow written ways
to sniff fine dust in Kurdistan
where camels bow their knees.

I travel hardly moving,
by turning pages roam
where words declare they're countries
as love songs claim the moon.

From Turkish sweets and minarets
next moment I'm at sea
to brave a storm off Melbourne's coast
and never miss high tea.

There's comfort in such travel,
traversing a paper map --
the hard climb up the Matterhorn
with a kitten in my lap.