Poems
from the Tibetan meaning 'to build' or 'to construct'
I.
In 1992, Alice made a Tulpa.
Carry an amulet. Kiss its three sharp corners. Shine.
It began subjective, but with practice could be seen: imagined ghost that flickered in the physical world, a sort of self-
induced hallucination.
Recall the chalk clouds. Recall the scent of ...
States of Poetry 2016 - Western Australia | ‘At the house where my father was born’ by Carolyn Abbs
'It hurts to go through walls, it makes you sick,
but it's necessary.' − Tomas Tranströmer
I'd expected a labyrinth of small dark rooms, yet
the house was lit marigold scooped out like a pumpkin for Halloween
Flames flickered and spat in a wide fireplace
&nbs ...
(found in rubble beneath a church — New Norcia)
Distempered walls crowd in cold at the old
schoolroom, resonant with the chant of times
tables, scrape of chalk on slate; a nun might
have leant over a child, white dust on her cuff.
This afternoon, light from a slit window catches
a silver crucifix and reflects onto the dome
of glass cabinet, li ...
Tenement Building (black & white photograph)
Chris Kilip, Tate Britain, 2014
you view the house from across the street
part of a terrace it fills the frame
the roof is cut off no sky dim light
upstairs a balcony
After you died, Nana, I went to your room,
it was dark like that place beneath the breakwater
where barnacles cling and children never dare hide
I opened a blind, a stuck window, breeze fanned
and fanned the room, light across your dressing-
table, triple mirrors. Amidst perfume bottles,
hairbrush, amber beads, your art deco box,
walnut with inlaid mothe ...
States of Poetry 2016 - Western Australia | ‘Tulips in Black and White’ by Carolyn Abbs
Sadness overwhelms me in this circle of cut
flowers; some face me, plead for help, but if
I were to cradle one tulip-heavy head in my palm
like a premature baby, would its petals (that remind
me of my mother's skin when she was old) fall
to the floor? Others turn away in a dried blush
of shame. Just a few plump bodies flaunt sheen
on velvet cloaks, ye ...
someone is leaving a plane and feeling the city wrap around them again. the atmosphere, it is always heavy around here. what that means is that it's humid. within the person there is an internal battle, then there is a decision, then there is action. while the consequences of the action play out, crickets play and not even in the background. the sound rises and all of a sudden it feels like the ...
I love the whole world
she said,
without sounding
corporate
(Agnes Martin
said it) ...
States of Poetry 2016 - New South Wales | 'From the Balcony: Sunday Afternoon' by David Malouf
Today in Sunday weather grevillia leaves
in turmoil, no evident breeze. A sugar hit. A honey
-eater, upside down at tilt and tumble.
The body also in Sunday mode. The mind
idling on automatic with no need
to be occupied or coloured, having come at last
to the end of a long apprenticeship in learning to leave
well alone. No empire to account to. No
a ...
at the patisserie the waitresses speak in French to each other while they slowly put in your coffee order. they do not seem rushed and their dialogue makes the experience seem authentic. I did not have cash and asked if they had a minimum on card. it was $10 and I had to add a chocolate truffle to my order to meet the price. I laughed to deflect attention from getting chocolate in the morning a ...
