Tough love

A very fine day was the last day of winter – a procession of extremo enjoyable activities.

Still high on post-yoga lustfulness and possibly even higher from having nothing but caffeine in my stomach, I was treated to fabulous and varied poetry readings at the Melbourne Writer’s Festival’s The Necessary Poet. Germaine Greer is one of only 3 people I’ve lined up to have sign books for me, and even though she shits me at times (please stop talking about Julia’s jackets, true though it is), I love her still.  That glare.  That glare! She sat on the panel of 6 waiting to read, and as we all filed in that look could have vaporised anyone or anything.  I’m going to remember this the next time someone points out that I’m doing my involuntary death-stare.

Thanks to Omar Musa for introducing me to the poetry of Anne Sexton, and the joy of hearing poetry read with such masculinity – ooh la la… Melissa Cranenburgh provided a sad and sweet moment with her reading of Charles Bukowski’s Bluebird.  It’s so fine to be reminded of something so fabulous, sitting forgotten on your own shelf, and there’s really nothing like being read to…

Bluebird

there’s a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I’m too tough for him,

I say, stay in there, I’m not going

to let anybody see

you.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale

cigarette smoke

and the whores and the bartenders

and the grocery clerks

never know that

he’s

in there.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I’m too tough for him,

I say,

stay down, do you want to mess

me up?

you want to screw up the

works?

you want to blow my book sales in

Europe?

there’s a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I’m too clever I only let him out

at night sometimes

when everybody’s asleep.

I say, I know that you’re there,

so don’t be

sad.

then I put him back,

but he’s singing a little

in there, I haven’t quite let him

die

and we sleep together like

that with our

secret pact

and it’s nice enough to

make a man

weep, but I don’t

weep, do

you?