Kilcunda, in the Centre of October

the sun is saying summertwo mothers and toddlersseparated by exposed reefshake a day’s experience one is reading Faulknerthe other Austen under shade we’re spread thinas urchins holding on dawnthe membrane stretchedtensile elastic pegged to places how a body still wants flight the trestle bridge is exposedtide out as far as it goesthe bull kelp collapsedall … Continue reading Kilcunda, in the Centre of October

you wouldn’t read about it

day slivers between long drapesthrough the ornamental pearits debris of Winter strokinga streetlight on a rise of dunehigh in the French windowyou might have thought deliberatelyplaced, shedding a leftover night yesterday evening a clotted squallscreeched darting more fish than avianweaved this and that thoughtbetween toward and reverseas the sky depleted duskand hail banked for chancelingered, … Continue reading you wouldn’t read about it

In Charles Street Greensborough

did my first love livethe road was unpavedtwo brown kelpies paroledscooting their vigilant duty we had coffee before schoolthat was all I needed thennow I hear she has diedlike the phone calls I’d make and hang up before answeredstill I think of the lifewe may have had togethera tumbledown waterfall where what never happenedhauls the … Continue reading In Charles Street Greensborough

But my lips digress

at the place I turn a cheek to between anatomy of hip and certainty where science and faith untangle tongues, discover all languages in that sweeping terrain each vertebrae a patent your secrets safe there my heart folding out of office in the finest drafting gender less in ways sculptors see 'Unstill … Continue reading But my lips digress

Potter’s Wheel

I saw you straight away although you had to point yourself out to the avid collector recalling years you were always on my horizon love like a maker’s relief embossed on an urn the artisan ownership engraved by an apprentice’s hand how beauty is marked by the young’s flensing hope cut down to the … Continue reading Potter’s Wheel

‘Space’ poems, readings for Wednesday Night Poetry, Hot Springs, Arkansas. S.O.S, Interstellar Notes – Travel Warnings – Earth, Letter to Lois.

Semi naked by Winter late

I have had to prune the tree magnolia those dinner plate china flowers swamping shade over everything and the calligraphy of sun on my back mixes the air to a fine point exotica by the incessant call of relentless waves behind the big dunes now puffed up those wedges of agent’s fists and knuckles … Continue reading Semi naked by Winter late

Unrequited forester contrite with sunrise

still smouldering with interred lightning this tempered wilderness life drawings of fire dance in alphabet hills make charcoal smudge the outlines saltpetre heathen tongues peel back these veins as gut for flamenco in the valleys now courts the dragon eludes the celibate dawn will your heart match the wing flap seek without shame and … Continue reading Unrequited forester contrite with sunrise

Prayerful of feathers

Late winter and ducks parade on our roof off key instruments play down each chimney the aged clay pots a fluted wobble of tone while they wait for the youngest to realize the distant brush of brackish view over to the wetlands water seized on crema there must be a fortune to a reason … Continue reading Prayerful of feathers

Under the Flinders Street Clocks

I am waiting We were seventeen when you said we’d meet under the clocks at Flinders Street Station, each decade for twenty years I waited for you. Photographed by students, longingly harassed by alms gatherers, still there the third time that other guy, seen by everyone in the woollen monk’s habit morphed out of … Continue reading Under the Flinders Street Clocks