States of Poetry Poems
States of Poetry 2016 - Victoria | 'Australian awe: white guys on life and art before 1788' by A. Frances Johnson
for Marcia Langton
The rock-art guide, combusting
in 43 degrees, back to image.
His sloppy dreamtime
a melted ice-cream,
far from refrigerated sublime.
Gwion rock art from the 'Tassel era' is happy art,
though contentiously attributed and dated, he says,
authoritative white sweater in white sweater.
Toby Fitch
Recording
A soft October morning,
adagio sostenuto. Some part
of me is still delayed
in sleep. It is one with
night, with daylight
stars, moths that fumble
at a window pane, bewildered
that this tract of sky,
like no other, will not yield.
The coffee cup, double espresso,
is deeper than it looks.
Each sip I take
a dark reaffirmation. ...
after Horace, Odes I, v
What slim-hipped beachboy dripping
with musk is riding you
now on a bed of roses
in your snug den, Pyrra? Is it
for him you have braided
those honey-gold locks
in a knot so neat, so
homely? One day
soon, black moods, black
looks, he'll be cursing
you and the fickle
gods who have ...
States of Poetry 2016 - Victoria | 'Diary of an Anti-elegist' by A. Frances Johnson
1.
Even poetry dements in the end; fatal attractions to dank earth
and ash albums don't fool or buy time. Poetry cherry-picks
memory for its own ends; yet that's a medicated narcissism for
some. Earnest elegies are often rejected by dogs and children.
Listen to them howl. Voting for life outside of ritual.
I'm on your side; I'm with the hounds and the kids. I won ...
Sweet nothings in our ear
cherub pumpkin dearest chuck
but to the heart which is the better
listener the password
to a tongue that only two in their comings
and goings have access to
A blessed mouthfu ...
You can't see water beyond the highway hoardings, but you are told Jesus walked on it. This
is your best clue. Dinner settings, security doors, Viagra and tractor parts flash past like
signed miracles.
But you feel something pull, not daintily at your sleeve, but with tidal will,
a blood rush of stark equations of space and gravity you cannot hope to solve.
When ...
States of Poetry 2016 - New South Wales | 'Visitation on Myrtle Street' by David Malouf
I was woken at some hour
of darkness before dawn by a scent so heavy
on my senses, on the room, that I was convinced
a burglar had broken in
and was loitering
upstairs or in the hallway, or having caught
my step on the stairs above him was lying low
in the laundry, or sitting
upright and unbreathing
in one of the Windsor chairs, unaware it w ...