James Stuart: The lyrebird variation

Its plumage is made of melody, a jingle
of colour shifting through all the seasons of the bush.
Its eyes hold the glint of water
running over a coral reef adjoining
a white beach where a single white woman
reclines in her red bikini.

Here in the heartland, the alleys of burrawong
sound with its jukebox selection of songs.
Business leaders who pass in pilgrimage
swoon in their woven suits. Some visit
only in conference-vision & wake up in boardrooms
their blissful faces enraptured by sweat.

Of course like its siblings this poet
is sustained by belief – though its purpose
is to sustain belief. It extols lifestyle
over life & is effectively invisible,
the domain of pure prophesy.

Its territory is the site of anthropomorphic excursions
& reams of market research, which
are whispered in eucalypt leaves that fall
like knuckle bones & blood. Here forms
a cartography of desire, real & potential
daily, the bird offers such & such advice.
In all the outreaches of the city,
signposts are scratched with its modulating Logos,
beautiful construct, plentiful with myth.
Truly, it is a poet among poets.
Even the airwaves resound.