Hi, it’s Greenygrey. We’ve got one regular feature following hot on the heels of the other one again this week. The next thrilling instalment of Amazon’s best-selling werewolf travelling around Australia to the theme of the Wizard of Oz Werewolf of Oz: Fantasy Travel by Google Maps is only half a day after last night’s newest Marc Latham Folding Mirror poem. Things sure are hotting up at the Greenygrey. Anyway, I’m beginning to ramble, reminding me of my/our classic first ramble around North America, and I can’t hope to compete with Mr. Wolfhol’s poetry introduction, so here’s Grey’s Werewolf of Oz:
The desert chose my direction, or at least limited my options; I was heading to north and new, and the alternative was south and scary. I was happy to be. Just to be. To be without decisions, pressures and stress. To be the only life I could see. To be able to sing thinking I was in harmony; without anyone to contradict me. Although my feet kept to the road, my mind flew this way and that; to the north, west, south and east horizons; looking north to the future, south at the past, and wondering about what I have missed and will miss to the east and west. Sometimes my thoughts settled into the outback, nothing in nothingness; it was a nice place to be.
Pigeons Line the Coorow Road
As I approached Coorow on the Coorow Road, there were hundreds of pigeons on either side of my route. They were cooing a poem that rang a bell somewhere in my mind, so my brain was hearing a repetitive: ‘ding, dong, coo, coo, ding, dong, coo, coo.’
I wasn’t too amused at first, and thought the town could do with a coup to stop all the cooing, but then it began to sound sweeter and more melodic the more I heard it.
I finally worked out that it was Marc Latham’s Pigeons on the Wing they were reciting; a poem pastiche of Pink Floyd’s Pigs on the Wing also incorporating Prince’s When Doves Cry written from a pigeon point of view ending on a high with the lines:
‘Through blue skies to green trees,
where we coo in peace.’
As well as the author’s own travel experiences, Jack Kerouac and Paul Theroux’s travel memoirs probably inspired the first paragraph, although the author had not read either’s writing for eight months beforehand.