Soundzine

1.

Into the universal and gaping nothing
twirls the naked goddess and the flick of her feet
begets a tiny swirl, the first moment of the world.

The first moment of the world stirs up the serpent
till his tail’s the curl for her all-quickening steps
and his holy head thrusts into divinity.

Thrust into divinity the goddess rises
a gorgeous bird and pregnant with immensity
delivering aloft the Pearl of Everything.

The Pearl of Everything breaks marvellously in two
scattering the sun the rainbow and the planets
tree-kangaroos and merles and sea-squirts and mountains.

The mountains shadow the mud of the low meadows
where soon in suitable gloops and bubbles we view
the First Man emerging and then the first henchmen.

2.

Kids, come here! It’s important!

Good. Can you hear me at the back?

I just asked your brother Dork to stay away from the ewes.
His answer was the rude finger.
That’s why I’m holding him here by the hair.
Isn’t it, Dork.

Your mother says you’re growing up now
and you can tell me to piss off.
Well, you may be grandchildren of the First Man
but WE ARE NOT going back into the mud.
Are we, Dork.

No more Goddess—have you got that?
Starting right now, we’re lifting the tone.
Say after me—“God, All-Father, send us luck
and accept this offering”.

(He cuts Dork’s throat.)

3.

Sir -
As advised (mine of the 15th refers)
Pathology reports that the specimen
found on your travels to the new universe
is undoubtedly of human origin

identified as part of the intestine
of an adolescent male. I attended
(Treasury chit 9) the region in question
and spoke to those primarily suspected.

In what amounts to a complete confession,
they say their father “was first to sacrifice
a boy to God” (though for this indiscretion
was forced to flee); thus they themselves think it wise

to maintain the custom. It is usual
(eg Patel, Mores at p. 62)
that congregations eat the residual
of offerings, here prepared as a ragout.

Present guidelines frown on cannibalism.
Therefore my Department’s recommendation
(as with past matters deemed equally noisome)
is urgent and total annihilation

by you as Weatherer or as Shatterer.
I remain, Sir, your humble &c.

(A personal note: may I commiserate
that your trip ended so mess-up-y,
the specimen being from the bowl you ate.
For interest, below’s the recipe.)

4.


Don’t Goddess me, you prick,
just answer the question!

No, all I know are the rumours
and this phrase ‘total annihilation’—
why in hell do you think I’m ringing you?

Eh? People and files and orders
and life jackets
flying in all directions
and you’re seriously telling me
no decision’s been taken?

What Exec meeting? Tonight?
Where’s my notice? My agenda?
Men only? That’s pure rubbish!
I’m as entitled

Hello?
Hello?
Shit!

Cheryl, can you get my daughter on the phone for me?
She’d be at Wine Shippers, yes.
No, immediately.

Oh shit.

5.


Great primal river, mother of waters,
asleep in the silver arms of the moon,
whence the slow grace of your serenity?
Whence these new dreams that chafe on your repose?

The twinkling flares line away like a scrawl
of ragged fire on the plains of heaven
lighting the diggers delving the channel,
countless gangs of earthshifting myrmidons.

And here on heaven’s edge the engineer
stands and looks down on the disk of the earth,
while the intended watercourse is formed
deeper and broader through the night behind.

Could a strange question prickle your slumber
O majestic and eternal river:
how your own destiny might intersect
with Operation Total Annihilation?

6.


Into the boat!
Why, dear?
Because grandma said,
and she’s the Goddess.
She said Code Red
so hang on to your bodice
and grab your raincoat
and get in the boat.

Into the boat—
bag box and barrel
cow pig apparel
cuttings seeds and plants
gumboots and underpants
skates skewers and scarves
elephants shovels giraffes
whatever won’t float—
into the boat.

All this wine?
Daddy says it’s fine.
One quick quaff
and he’s casting off.
Now kids, pray to your ancestors
and put on your sou’westers
and stand under the tarp
sharp!
And take note—
stay in the boat.

7.


Wishing not to meet our neighbours
begging for help when we had none to give
we sailed offshore
to spare them false hopes in such a desperate time.

We hung the sail to tent us from the waterfall
that crashed unceasing from the sky
unable to see a yard beyond the rail
as we crouched sodden with fear.

At the fifth dawn the sky cleared
showing only ocean
pocked with the bodies of animals
floating strangely calm after their terror.

My parents stood
holding each other and staring out
and it was then that it came home to me:
but for our boat the world was dead.

8.


Sir -
With respectful regard to the wording
your idea (which you underline in par. 1),
a misunderstanding seems to have crept in.

Though (as you say) ‘total annihilation’
is mentioned in some recent observations,
that is strictly in relation to the perps

and had better communications been sought
between your office and, Sir, my Department
during your preparations for the campaign

(which no doubt for plausible cause they were not)
we would have taken the opportunity
to suggest not annihilating the world.

My condolences, Sir, that since O.T.A.
your office has been so troubled with complaints
of the volume and vehemence you mention.

9.


Mum -
It’s been so superbusy!
Really should’ve written sooner—
never had so many patrons
queuing for the schooner

soused and fish-eyed after drowning,
dripping down through all the tunnels—
every trip I’m overloaded
right above the gunnels!

Good news anyway—the budget
blew to bits on O.T.A.
so they can’t afford a bridge and
poof! I’m permanent! Hooray!

And with all that fancy planning
for a brutal total slaughter?
What a farce! The blockheads never
found sufficient water!

So a lot of dodgy buggers
(tipped off by some HQ buddy)
slip back from the upper mountains
muddy but still bloody.

What a cock-up! Still, they’re saying,
maybe it was best it missed
given all the lofty heavies
who are really pissed!

Anyway, the bosses tell me
no assistant (or respect!)
plus, in future there’s a fee that
I have to collect.

That’s enough. I’ll have to spar on.
Ever-lovin’ wishes,
- Charon

10.


Lovely and only mother,
delicate glaze of life
between the vacuum
and the molten mantle,


I can’t believe it! I make this amazing place and you—you just smash it, you moron!

the story tells of the drowning
and of the burning to come
heard as your world is rendered down
into a toil of fumes


- I did what I had to. I was NOT drunk.

without even the excuse
of the slow-boiled frog
who dies of ignorance.


Immortal? Ha! Don’t bet on it, buster! If I go, you go—dead set!