Garry Stanton

Crawling on its hands
And knees,
Or sliding serpent-like
On a belly smeared
...

You saw it
all. You saw
too much, I think.
...

I reach into a Grandfather Clock.
The parlour is still,
without ticks
in this dead afternoon hour,
...

funny how we are each
ghosts of the future,
our histories
before us.
...

I place my penny
in the vending machine of
Eternity. It grinds and groans.
Metal on metal.
...

Love was in this place. He
scuttled and lounged and
slobbed,
made himself welcome. But
...

Take a look at your
Self. Do you think you are
Frightening?
Well, ok, you are.
...

For the lost people of St Kilda

Black eyes, staring.
Melancholic, not angry.
...

I went out onto the breakwater
the memories afloat on the waves...

I took a walk on the breakwater
...

History hangs heavy
In the air,
Anonymous assassin
Pooled still between
...

Close the windows


Someone once said
...

Random Hope


Time- many mouthed demon.
...

I woke up in the morning I was Jesus
Sweating in the darkness, was I God?
Imagining salvation could be with us
Delivered by the Cosmic Lightning Rod
...

Cannot remember when I got the word
Saying it would soon be over
The way was clear for destiny
To drive the flaming engine
...

We stand to the side, ‘tween
The groom and the bride
In the circle of breath
...

Shall we meet in the place
Where there is no darkness?
Where the light is white,
No corners concealed
...

My old aunt she used to gossip
‘Mid slums and dreams awry
The poverty a blanket
Draped against the sky
...

Kick you when you’re down?
No.
The bags under your eyes
Speak of despair,
...

All into church on time,
sliding
into pews, awaiting
the main event.
...

I keep seeing
people in their graves.
Not people who are already
dead,
...