Alison Georgeson

 

Stormwater

 

Appearing in another enclosure I slipped over to avoid it taking the inland route along the

 

river. Initially it felt entropic, that they simply weren't trying hard enough. Weaving

 

behind the chorale were irritating myths against a skyline policy, crashing and burning in

 

low lying areas. Staying in the squint of it. Dislocated and falling, we seem to agitate

 

around the notion of being swept away.

 

Time passed to stick with the immediate

 

questions expect impressions to reveal

 

a long track of arguments, circumscribed, flood continental mountains, to announce: this

 

is your style. In the moon stages there will be waves of the old things. Dreams,

 

intervals. The words lay waiting.

 

 

How could I have been persuaded when they were merely presenting masterpieces.

 

Solfatara: look up. Running with desert conclusions are the expanded intensities, even

 

in roles that feature how you felt. Out of my mind, unable to sleep, my eyelids shut for

 

the duration of local heavy falls in the shallow zone, itself not verifiable, not A or not A.

 

 

 

White noise is steady in the middle of the night.

 

Drowned river valleys float through the net

 

 

 

and land here. It was 4 and a half months before the 2 week wait for arrival, a loose

 

period. The clue it seemed: they were using sign language, booking a theatre we were

 

swamped and the moment passed. And why not: loves, lovers, losing. Does it throw up

 

anything but itself again? I insert myself, a tourist. You censor all those pleasures you

 

translate into your embrace. Dismasted and rudderless a huge vogue wave in the teeth

 

of the storm defines a heartbreak.

 

If certain previously

 

unimagined textual elements

 

are planted in a life's sentence

 

where matter and energy are fused, let them remind you of words you have used all your

 

life. Diffuse pollution becomes unrecognisable in natural waterways, stored in the

 

riverbeds. Run and don't get weary retracing your primitive scrawl. We know that Saturn

 

is the only evening planet easy to locate at dusk.

 

I held another sky and emptied out the future

 

Title: Not talking To You: Pages That Follow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2006 by Alison Georgeson.

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Born in Seattle, Alison Georgeson spent time in London, and has lived in Perth, Australia for the past 10 years. She teaches creative writing at the University of Techonology in Perth.