We arrive in Tasmania under police guard. I'm not sure whether they're protecting the community, us or themselves, in fact they probably don't know - but they're nice guys doing a job and we crack jokes and all put up with the theatre. I love masks but these ones are boring and steam up my glasses so I go back to the neck scarf. There are 5 "govvies" as they call us, going into government ordered hotel accommodation for 14 days and we board a bus heading for the Sunrise Motel. Our little group of detainees decide to share phone numbers so we can communicate over the period and maybe have a couple zoom meetings. I like the idea.
There are locked cyclone gates into the establishment and a similarly fenced off exercise yard in the central parking area. It's standard motel fare, but we have opening windows which is a plus and bless'em for the exercise yard although I'm not sure what I'd do in it. Walk in circles I guess or lie down in the sun if there's sun to be had.
The cops are trying to be nice and helpful. They help us up with our gear. I sense they're hating having to do this. It's like being a fire brigade volunteer with a beeper, and all you get beeped to do is wash diesel off the roads and spread sawdust after an accident.
Anyway we're here and, after 6 weeks of chaotic insanity, we flop.

The older it gets the more rubbish is wrote
so its parents and friends push it off in a boat
and call on the waves to keep it afloat
til it dreams up a wrinkling twinkle
and it steadies itself at the helm
It steadies itself at the helm.

A wrinkling twinkle’s a nonchalant thought
that spins off a wheel to be subtly caught
by the tendrils of time that emerge from the rhyme
to usher a twinkle right out of the wrinkle
the wrinkle back into the realm,
the wrinkle back into the realm.

But now that the twinkle is out on its own
the waves become wild and the dreamer is thrown
from the front and the back of the in and the out
til it calls out aloud to the tide
oh thank you so much for the ride
yes thank you so much for the ride.

Then things are unusually still
becalmed on a watery hill
it looks for a seed of a nonchalant thought
to pop up ahead in a faraway port
where twinkles and wrinkles can never be caught
and it steadies itself at the helm
it steadies itself at the helm.

do everything well
do nothing really well
make a spell
a bit down sometimes?

sometimes is not forever
sometimes you’re elated

ecstatic and inflated
happy in your skin

you know who and what you are
a lover, a magician, a warrior a king

you’re lifted and you’re gifted
and the mood you had has shifted

the air is full of hope
of possibility and chances

you’ll take no backward glances
onward is the trip

and even if you slip
it’s nothing it’s a blip

on your feet within a jot
cause if you're not ...

you could slip into the grind
out of sight and out of mind

so flick all the bad news
damn it kid, embrace the id

the one thing that can save you is your Self

oh-oh, did you say you need an expert?


out of nobody comes light
nobodys knowing why darkness is blowing,
but flowbodies, crowbodies silently working.

nobody is right nobody can light
nobody is real nobody can feel
nobody has cure for a way to endure
nobody is pure its okay

not knowing the nobody way

So here we are again friend, bending time
spinning wheels and leaning on the taper
take a pen and grind the nib on paper.

But plastic boards with letters are the means
pause delete and scroll back to your teens
be unafraid of twaddle on a screen
just hope that all of this will go unseen

tho what’s the point of writing now for nought?
Quite simple friend, unload redundant thought
then on the flow and feeling as we might
bend a moment's dullness into light.

The play, the joke, laughter with an elf
“your solemn duty is ‘enjoy yourself!’”
A mingling of music on a street
a blessing that compels your soul to beat
a tickin time a tapping of the heart
bringing from an ending to a start
pentameter iambic off the lead
to lift its leg and sow another seed.