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First Things

Author: 
Philip Gross

Never more than a blink away

from first things ... It seems only today

 

that Washing Machine Dreaming

opened its timeless tracts to me,

its spiral galaxy

 

expanding at nine hundred revs per minute

like a brisk shake from the One Dog

back from splashing in eternity.

 

It’s a whorl in the long grass

where a little twister did its pirouette

 

or the same Dog, in its next-door’s

yappy spaniel form,

turned three times widdershins

 

with its every ancestor on great savannahs

where it goes to dream

and we are no more

 

than a smudge of smoke

on the horizon

 

From The Rialto No 66 (Spring 2009)