Joy Chambers & Reg Grundy Award – Open Age Other Poetry
by Brett Dionysius
For Ben McNamara
We're not the consumers, but the all consumed.
Stars will eat us. They dangle light in the obscure
Darkness like an angler fish's fluorescent bait.
Our skin is scaled with warmth. Waves cast in our
Direction collapse all resistance. The heart seeps
Like molten lead, then hardens into a new substance.
It cannonballs our sleep. Holes the side of our dream.
Memories leave imprints on the mind's bulkhead like
Small coins iron-stamped by pressure's deep punch.
Close the external hatch on day. There is a great depth
To those cosmic bushfires; how long does it take us
To reach them? How fast is the speed of night? We
Transform again & again. If photos are a flat death,
Then we are laid to rest, in sunlight's crystal breath.
He would have downloaded poetry, but action
Was in the Great Scheme's head. So he lived in
Digital narrative dealing justice to the evil horde.
Past his bedtime, pixel-atoms roared, the Earth
Is the universe's earphone & he plugged right in.
Melody moved him. He sang his part in the eternal
Song, but tired from all this play, his lips became
A silent spring; his words ancient clay. He spun
His wheels & skidded off the end of time's ramp.
Voices raised the primordial din. Fast asleep in
The bright orchard of his bed, the wick of his
Soul burned down; the blood-lit fuse was fed.
On the night Morpheus shared his new music;
His spirit soared & trick-skated over the edge.