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Thomas Kent




City Loop

Iíve never written a poem this way before
And I probably never will again
But Iíve written this poem this way today
Just to show I can

Come
Take my hand
Weíll fly up and
Plunge into the ground
The tracks the train slipping
Through the tunnels like a silver eel
Clickety click
Into the tunnel
Cloggety clog
Grab a strap
Melbourne Central
Bodies pack air less doors broke spilled out
Allpeople rushing bustling humming jostlingeachother feet
tripping tapping trotting running
Standing on the slow
Escalator
As it moves
Toward
The top
Pushing rushing stumbling tumbling
Rolling all together in a
Ball
Mass
Of bodies
Rising
Towards
The light

Back on down hold tight squeeze in again all right
Flagstaff pushing crushing struggling
On
Off
Rustlings
Rumblings
Young girl immersed in her hole wrapped-up world
Old man mumbling with rain on his beard
And the man in the road with the hole in his head
Feels the sky drift from one ear to the next
Sees with his eyes
The broke busted pavements of crowds passing by
Now SouthernCross tourists
Women with prams
Man in a wheelchair
Under a sea that rolls overhead
Gulls Cries
And on again clankety clank
Flinders Street
Loversbyriverstrollarminarm
Water slow flowing engorged from a storm
Girls everywhere
Breasts thighs
Diamond legs
Purple skirt
Gothic gowns garments tags unreeling
Stitches unwind crazy designed
And eyes eyes beautiful eyes night eyes morning eyes
Blue green yellow purple clear opaque those
Beautiful
Eyes
Eyes
Eyes

Train plunges into the earth again
Eating its tail
Following round
Parliament Station
Civilguys planning to burn in their hives
Printed on paper so many damn lives
So many secrets buried far underground
Suits tissue and tinsel rumours abound
There are some
Keci
There are some
Clickety clack
There are some
Etena Bahujuna
And still we go
On and on down clackity clackity
Toggledy toggledy
Molto vibrato molto vibrato
Ma citŤ le ravin
Mundo profundo mucho amore
Je ne change rein
Under the ceaseless white roots reaching down
To intertwined snakes gnarled moving slowly underground
Secret keepers of this city this land
Gobbling up with stretched hungry mouths
Vomit pus blood excrement shit love
Kisses bones fucking sobs screeches cries laughter damn sighs
Angels feathers blades slicing
Victorian ghosts aimlessly drifting
Everyone eating this city this
Vomit this
Garland of
Flowers
Appearances dashed into pieces against
These dark tracks
Ah
Dolce
Yes
Dolce dolce
This
Multicolored turbulent contumely
This city of Melbourne
Je Ne Change Rein

Iíve never written a poem this way before
And I probably never will again
But Iím reading this poem this way today
Just to show I can
Just to show I can
Just to show you I can.


©2009 by Thomas Kent

Thomas Kent was born in New Zealand in 1956 and moved to Sydney in 1980. He has been involved in the arts and writing all his life, but only started using the pen name Thomas Kent on moving to Melbourne in 2006. He has worked as a public servant, kitchenhand, disc jockey, wool storeman, call center worker, community worker, Buddhist monk, editor, and journalist. At present he works as a media consultant in humanitarian affairs, runs the small publishing company EXACT Publishing, and regularly reads around Melbourne, as well as running the "Big Read Out" series of readings.


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