The lagoon is full of machines: small ones in the reeds
tocks and bocks, little clocks; a larger one maybe a fox (!)
on the rocks by the reeds. The reeds are reading
wind-borne frequencies – a rippling gamelan
repeating lines and phrases to the life within:
warbler, egret leaning spring-blade ballerina.
And in the ooze and the air, everywhere bacteria
re-coding the dead in cells, sugars, ammonia.
The air is full of machines: fluff and dust and fungi
spores in my nose, and hair; and here, the ruined tree
with six, no seven ibis perched as dog and I near.
Proximity alarm, off they fly honking unhappily.
Tin flies fuck on my forearm, coiled DNA buzzed fly-to-fly.
The ancient paperbark braces the 50-foot sky;
on each branch a cormorant, gaunt black ornament.
The lawn, a million blades increase ceaseless cellulose.
Now the Sun from grey, great engine of all and the new day.
Image: Angeleses c/- Pixabay; A morning stroll on a foggy morning.
And for those of you on the road this season, here’s Kraftwerk from 1974 (watch out for that truck).
Peter Frankis writes 
All that flowing imagery! The reeds are reading
wind-borne frequencies… and … on each branch a cormorant, gaunt black ornament – came to life!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s pretty busy down at this little urban lagoon. Thanks so much for all your support this year – and best wishes for 2019.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am hearing “This is Austraalia.” Real and biochemical, filled with wet and dry life, I am so allergic to almost everything, with asthma forever, that this glorious piece is actually making me cough, and you should judge that as a marvellous success. Wishing you all the best for the festive season and 2019, Peter.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Steve, and a wildly creative 2019 to you too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love the assonances, alliterations and rhymes in this one too:
tocks and bocks, little clocks; a larger one maybe a fox (!)
on the rocks by the reeds. The reeds are reading…
fluff and dust and fungi
Tin flies fuck on my forearm,
on each branch a cormorant, gaunt black ornament.
increase ceaseless cellulose.
witty end-rhymes: ballerina, bacteria, ammonia
LikeLike
Oh, and given title, guessing you maybe have a part-German background too, like me?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Peter, yep my Mum was. The title has that wonderful Germanic purposefulness – that I couldn’t quite find in English. (it’s also the title of my least favourite track on Kraftwerk’s Autobahn 😀)
LikeLike
This natural autobahn is a thousand on- and off-ramps in whirling green techno. Whew. I was more Another Green World than Autobahn in the 70s, but the dance is vibrantly similar..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Brendan, glad you liked it. (Am listening again to Eno as I type :-))
LikeLike