in these streetsthey still play end to endand three goals in the old mine siren soundsat midday, every day,as though the shift will come up one coaled nationality the sea filled shafts on overflowtomorrow’s cars on nature stripsturbine shadows calling time sand dunes bleat for patienceturned over bellies sun upfine ground as bone and promise … Continue reading High on the low down (even though I have to jump), reprise

The first drive east. Out past dauntless newsuburbs scattered like a teenager’s room.Asleep in the future. All that aspiration watchingfrom the cosy dissemble of the city’s embrace,but curled like a cat, the tail flicking impatiently.My first car. The HD station wagonearly morning, no other traffic –the world in hibernation except for us.Pages turned quietly in … Continue reading First, 1975

where the jetty meandersbrokeningly wadingin a high jumper’s roll,a pelican fills up the dayholding a reserve for tomorrowa word it regurgitates to reflectout of preening reminiscencethe savour of relivingtastes of feeding again whilst weary anglers returnsinging of old regretthat good times are a harvest,pooling about in undefined circlesand knowing it can flywherever the fancyor carefree … Continue reading At Gypsy Point

Would our conversation have continuedif I asked about colour and strokeand offered, words are unused palettesmade tactile for the willingas she turned to restrain my OCDeach object, centred yet abstractin younger days congealing and tamedby that wild brush, of a hand pouring tea. Margaret Olley Yellow Room

A koala walked beside mewhile I mowedstopped when I stoppedlooked over and slothed alongwhen I started again Two black snakes ahead of medoing it harduphill in the drivewaythe gravel clingingtheir red bellies dusty Three eagles counting upliftstracked me to the dry creekplayed keepings off with magpiesI was singing Guantanamerawhen the deer sprang Four horses came … Continue reading Summer has its reasons

I could tell you of the hard hail of sixpenceson this speckly jumper with its barbed wire holesand the elbow gash from knowing’s usewhere the mousing cat snoozles in,or the sudden whack to the facethe first time words stub into you from love’s slammed door,a teenage death before experience cures. But there’s a black cockatoo … Continue reading Scarecrow

remember the first time that retchof a trodden heart when youthfancies itself worth an ending this hill so steep I’m standingfingers dug into the green of itwaiting for the valley to drop the bike on its head by the soakhow the angle tripped technologyfour wheels sliding in dismay telling death him her it themwhat a … Continue reading Fuck You Truck, Bastille Day 2016

I received a letter today ‘To The Householder’ on the addressin an envelope from Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnessessix stamps, from overseas, inside it was a photocopyquoting Matthew 6: (9) (10) Jesus explaininga bright hope for the future plus some bonus Isaiahwith a QR Code to the latest magazine my initials.orga paperclip caught my nail … Continue reading Leonard Cohen and the delayed Block Print drops in

we drive over to your sister’son a day shiny and crispas porcelainthe tide wildin a thousand Hokusaithe flags only metres apartzinced oiled kids slosh aroundsea line hallucinatesbig frog clouds blurp horizonsmy heart is awashlike our first kissI was too shy to givea ring in ternamong the gullsall one flightwhen the eagle passesGreek Indian Italian nightsten … Continue reading Venus Bay, New Year’s Day

ankle deep courageseven Rips stretchI could to be more carefulholding day as if tomorrowcan be contained, netted don’t touch buoyancythe wings blemish to unflightbecoming now unexpectedtoddler rock pool smilejizz and fizzle, released I recall a hat blown to seaa lizard skin bones inside outbright of shinearch less footsteps parasolscuttle fish, thousands a different coast nowevery … Continue reading At 67, I recognize spectrum, again