land of the empty bowls
on a curve side track
unknown hills of the once holy
days of the graze
how did this land ever get to be?
ancient perplexity
perplexity of the ancients
in the settin’ sun
sandy soil
multi-coloured earth foil
bush scrub blue
in a church less land
no religion
no junk
settlements
habitations
not much in the way
of complication
slate wiped clean
different journeyin’
expectin’ to arrive in cities
but the cities aren’t there
land too old land too young
in a cross conglomeration
of strangeness
for us to ever be
more than
window watchin’
for people humans
but there are no people
to see –
skeleton invisibility
slowly gettin’ used
to this way of writin’
dreamtracks
that follow no pattern
no obvious pathways
as the words just come to be
do they make sense?
read easy?
jus’ dunno
will have to see...
words held up to my face
just disintegrate
highways on their way
to somewhere
but the somewhere is just a speck
just a spec headin’ east
on a curve beat swing way
where we just wanna see
the usual vocabulary faded
pipeline roadways –
either the end of the world
or the birth of
a superior humanity
what is it gonna be?
- from Nullabor Song
