gingatao

All poems are experiments, experiments in experience

all are equally difficult to see in their entirety

equally easy to read for sounds and subtle thrills.

When a simple tale of the honesty of water spills/ over

slipways and invades the footpath canvas of street artists,

and Banksy’s anonymity runs graffiti over frames,

Western minds

which delight in dis/section into categories

sticky plaster labels, con-temporary

, a temporary con, and in the

absence of sensible syntax

while somewhere between giggling and tummyful

sits sunonhead under banyan trees

integrating in mysterious digestion

the wondrous simplicity of pastries.