The dog and the antelope knewblue was mortal and could not be relied uponfor any journey to an afterlife,where the sphinx‘s nose was caught in the jamband marked a broken traitor. Floating in a green jelly of aspic frogsorange with the sun behindwe laughed over ham sandwiches without butter,watching the fish in the pool knowing … Continue reading A Day at the Louvre
Month: September 2020
Egon Schiele at Krumlov
“The line does not end where the arm ends,but where the thought leaves the line.”Leopold Museum, Vienna As the lapidarian eye placed a caressabove the stocking end line casting aboutin the cascading thought for blue shiners,fledged to reflect lacy signatures in thoseimprints of yearn falling away fromskin folds of studious art endeavours,where button breasts diamante … Continue reading Egon Schiele at Krumlov
12.56pm Eastern (Guest blog: James Walton)
I dreamed in cerulean. The churn underneath creation’s folly, the lisp in thinking aloud, the slow breath towards nebula. Because I did not speak until my seventh year, my day was all sky. In July 1969, around 1.00pm our time, the black and white television in the crowded classroom held out the hand of otherworld. In my fifteenth year, this stuttering breach of language around letters to avoid, stretched. The quiet is a choice, soundlessness was a place.
author of A short history of the universe in fold theory, ‘Neil Armstrong’s Three Stage Punctuation’ and ‘Hero of the Soviet Union, Twice’
I have no chronology. What are 67 years? That moon landing year my nickname was D-D-D-D Graph, a parabola point on a graph sheet. My age is tabular, out of context, I now live in a new millennium, a different century. Words are the proof of…
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Ginger Essence
Mawson you were my heroholding to an ember inthe stubbed out ends of flinty life;flickering wraiths pilfering from smother driftconscious of your will just glowing there. Did you wake at the barking for the rest of it,how they circled in love for you,licks telling all their secretsa whimpering prayer of cold necessityin an adoring brush … Continue reading Ginger Essence
Portrait of the Artist as a (un) Young Man
My short story 'Rendered, blank in pages' has been published by Overland Literary Journal. Please have a read. https://overland.org.au/2020/09/fiction-rendered-blank-in-pages/?fbclid=IwAR1asypiaCMYOEHRkWrNIHBRFT8lnydm5HW0MI5aBIqalLu3V0ABMZ51tIc
Neil Armstrong’s Three Stage Punctuation
In the slow orbit of wombatsmy house hangs on to the hill,the yellow frog flaunts the leaping crimson spinnaker of its jumpto the swallows’ rue at my reflective door,white lightning shudders in lift off from another countdown. Wind dies. Apple blossom carries the love letter kiss of butterflies,delivered in the slow somersault breezemoon landing clumsy, … Continue reading Neil Armstrong’s Three Stage Punctuation
James Walton Poetry 