{"id":59,"date":"2009-01-15T12:48:48","date_gmt":"2009-01-15T01:48:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/?p=59"},"modified":"2009-01-20T20:12:07","modified_gmt":"2009-01-20T09:12:07","slug":"david-barnes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/?p=59","title":{"rendered":"david barnes"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"DavidBarnes\"<\/a>Soon after my recent return to Australia I exchanged a few emails with Australian poet David Barnes. I’ve spoken of David many times. It was on David’s early online poetry website Poetry Down Under that many of my early works were published in the mid-90s. He’s had significant health problems over the past few years, but he battles on. I believe his poetry just keeps getting better and better. With David’s permission, here are three recent examples: <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

entreaties<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

i do not sleep much anymore<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

unremittingly it is naps and snacks<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

pen in hand, inscribing words at 5 am<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

i have prayed for relief<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

there is no answer conversing with God<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

if thought<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

exceeds the velocity of light<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

would he hear<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

a single muted plea<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

it seems life<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

is a continually moving flash<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

an inside-outside ache<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

this leaves no thought<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

on how to spend<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

the days<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

its Easter holidays<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

and the only man<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

with the solution died<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

carrying his fated cross<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

i surmise<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

i will have to continue<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

carrying my own<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

somewhere<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

between toast and coffee<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

the aftertaste lingers, like prayers<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

waiting for God<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a9 draft 1998 : \u00ae debarnes 2008<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

______________________________________<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Picasso and time<\/strong>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Picassos hang on museum walls<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

he had his time his time<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

a time of multi-coloured madness<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

his tormented short-lived mind so alive<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

paintings unrivalled over time.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

scholarly academics<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

publish copious papers and books<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

as if they were Sigmund Freud<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

trying to dissect him –<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

he strolled though the countryside of his friend<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

stopped to paint lilies in the field.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

His old Parisian world\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

of stained ceilings tarnished windowpanes<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

lipstick smears on dead-end butts<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

ashtrays spilling over<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

blood-red wine stains and leftover<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

bread crumbs on tables.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

A clock ticks and ticks telling time<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

the night’s discussions and revellers depart<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

the door closes for another night<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

another time in time.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

outside they walk past the drunk<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

sprawled in the sidewalk gutter<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

paper bottle still held in his hand<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

water spilling round past him down the drain<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

is it his time-time is irrelevant<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

there is no time at this point in time<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Picasso hangs ageless<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

like this World.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a9 debarnes April 2008<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

<\/h1>\n

___________________________________________<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Intermingled memories<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I still miss<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

your clothes,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

the trail sprinkled<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

around the bedroom,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

the times<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

we hastily undressed,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

half-tripping stripping<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

scattered clothes mingled<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

together;<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

hurriedly<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

kicked off shoes<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

resting close<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

to each other;<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

and after<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

all these years,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I still wonder<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

if I had a fetish;<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

for I was turned on<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

by the caress<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

of your toes,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

up my thighs.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

And now<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

only memories<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

of scattered<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

clothes remain.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a9 debarnes 2008<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

______________________<\/span>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I’ve never met David face-to-face, yet I feel like I know him well. Keep up the great work, mate.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Soon after my recent return to Australia I exchanged a few emails with Australian poet David Barnes. I’ve spoken of David many times. It was on David’s early online poetry website Poetry Down Under that many of my early works … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-59","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/59","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=59"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/59\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":62,"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/59\/revisions\/62"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=59"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=59"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.robwalkerpoet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=59"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}