The paddocks have changed.A praying mantis trellisof snow peas covers banked soil.On the other road side,early silage is wrapped garishlysited like spilled marbles.White clover counts in threes,the sky is coffee grounds.A Norse thunder hooves its way;the pickers clasp satchelstheir non las lift off and spinnaker.Rain calls them to shelter,in utes the station plays Orbison.Holiday traffic … Continue reading Southern Entry Leongatha, October

(In this world/love has no colour –/yet how deeply/ my body/ is stained by yours) Izumi What remains struggles for the hand grip of language, the shake of letters, the whirly get you moment of transparency in this ever expanding universe of no departure intersect indifferent to the eternity of loss, and how he draws a profile in … Continue reading Leary Presents at the Writers Festival

remember Ramonhow we laughed at the deliriumof the pokey seat in the laneafter the readings at La Mama a promise is a wading thingand we held a hand each when you made me writeall seven days to week a monththat stretch of gluten by a wonky lightthe way words fall to combine a separate secret … Continue reading slow the express

Damian has two deer heads. They roll around a little in the boot, but he makes the drive down to the only taxidermist still working. Bryce comes to the door after several knocks. He has a stubby in his right hand, his granddaughter in his left, and a roll your own expiring at the side … Continue reading Getting Stuffed in the Valley

CalfSHOCK cold rainfalling snort breathe can’t feelwhere what used to be hometongue licking pushing hard wobbling underneathstagger fall tumble shove awaystretching up mouth want to cling onground not sure if the dirt is bloodor smell green of sometimes inside now outblack whack of wing and thud of kickand noise harsh then soft and wet to … Continue reading If I was a new…

I know you dislike statisticsbut the missing variablewas only ever us and if I could playthe perfect instrumenttranscribe a rhapsody in volition to sax or cello or flutethen I would be closerto the reclaimed harmonics of words to soundsan arrangement of yearsin an ascension that winds itself says let’s fall by unused noteswithin the new … Continue reading 16 or 75, 46xY

They are laid out for this Sundaystations between lockdown datesand if an ear is pressed to them words singing out of lethargyrise out of loose leaf castings from waiting rooms across the citya fall of sound as another bearersignals to lounges kitchens hallways that awakening hope of releasein the chugging unopened language where skimmed pages … Continue reading Tsundoku (the condition of acquiring reading materials but letting them pile up in one’s home without reading them)

From Uncharted Constellations Space Cat Press 2020

I am fifteen years awayfrom the age my father reachedstanding in the shadeof a forty year old apple tree, in an early autumn daywith still no sign of rainand ground that has crackedlike sore lips after oranges, for decades I’ve resistedthose crossed arms in an ageing poutbut it’s only fair to tell youthat I’ve messed … Continue reading Now I’m Sixty Two

a lizard so small on the broken vasedrinks and looks back motion lessthe unflappable virtue of a nodding irisall Van Gogh wheezy at the anglethe horse paddock bounteous with feedan abandoned rusty bike maintaining a postcherry blossom graffiti over the porchhow the noise of children swimming amplifiesthe clamorous life of aira neighbour’s dog being spottedwalks … Continue reading These things of hope