Thursday, January 27, 2011

Poem sent to Bernard in Coogee

Bernard, you’re probably sitting at home in Coogee,
but you aren’t.
Not really. This isn’t Coogee. This is a poem
in Coogee.

A poem which you have been visiting
for years, when it was sunny, when it was raining,
when it was stormy. And here you are now:
standing (or sitting), reading this.

Yes, there you are … and you’ll go away again, shortly.
This is how it’s going to be between us. In fact,
I’m no longer here either.

after Rutger Kopland

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