Birthday Stereophonics of the Elder Kind

At times my body heat
presages combustion,
but we’re in the Eye of Us
this constant iridescence,
my VU bright lit
in the red corner.
Going off like radiation
a heart ticking boom,
an amplifier out of mode
but so mellow,
the bass specific
no matter how the EQ is justified.
A kid’s month is a summer tortoise
the day a year of beach towels,
before the lift off
sheds stages of experience,
and you get to look back
at things beyond iteration.
Anniversary on a sky flipped decanted day
a virtuoso blue eclipse,
three sides of the circle
disappearing to bloom,
a lifetime production
full staves at intersect.
I know you prefer baroque over romantic
a cello in tune the piano pride of place,
the storm passing
but I couldn’t help myself,
and not being Jim Croce
I couldn’t say it in a song.



James Walton is an Australian poet published in many anthologies, journals, and newspapers. He was a Librarian, a farm labourer, a cattle breeder, and mostly a public sector union official.

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