Writing a line, as if from bed, on a lovely, handmade
organ based on Gerald Murnane, the Goroke novelist
last seen pouring a glass of amber silk and swaying
imperceptibly enough to be called coincidental to Hot... (read more)
As my plane drops down in turbulence
I think of you and of Salt Lake City,
I think of ice stealing over the Great Lakes
and of Omaha and of adamant plains.... (read more)
temporarily easing Grafton Correctional Centre blues,
a young girl walks shadow-hardened corridors to see a black inmate,
observe her little brown fingers
Don’t feel sorry about it, if you remember
blue Darlinghurst nights like particular quilts
a generation of painters saw
before we arrived there, or found ourselves
We write about our existence pre-invasion / And that has made us visible
We write about our existence during invasion / And that keeps us visible
walgajunmanha... (read more)
Who doesn’t love the portmanteau
for tangerine and pomelo, or more like angel,
tango, words for wilderness ...
In a hallway with the door open, a Honeywell T87 will attempt to
equalise the temperature of the continuous (available) world. It sits
between the mirror-dresser and the coat-hook which resembles two
of four talons of a lived-in bird, like a Fiji or an Imitator goshawk ...
Tuesdays Paul comes by. He jogs up the driveway in his striped green shorts
and I’m there at the door with Ella on my hip. She’s crying, she’s teething
and drooling and crying from the pain, and some days I can’t stand it, I have ...
Even the waves of the sea, in the distance, have turned to stone.
The blue/green rising into outcrops, ridgelines, a lone bull ...