Café (December)

All in silence and alone I attend to words around the edges of a city waking in December rain. Raucous soul music in the cafés of Degraves Street. Click and steam of the baristas. A lawyer cutting through the ham and cheese croissant like prize evidence. Splashy umbrellas blue and black do their brack walks towards Collins Street. The man with the stretch cords in his ears yelling at someone in Yarraville. What kinds of words are the words around edges? Any word the language provides, solid, humid as. Rain intensifying on the bluestone pavement. Avocado smashers tapping their phones.

Café (June)

Signature in the corner of 'The Night Café'

Visiting Van Gogh, gallery café talk, everyone with their own pronunciation. Van Go-off, going off somewhere else, somewhere south, going off his rocker. Van Go, here today, gone tomorrow. Van Gough, I have more influence now than when I had the power. Van Google, in three seconds produces more pictures than the Master, even, or anyone else in history. Van Glob, unkind but appropriate enough on a good day. Van Goo, his June cloudscapes go from glob to goo and back again. Van Golf, that landscape is now an 18-hole course, bought by selling the painting. Van Gorge, Van Gaffe…