An unborn dreaming hunger touched my wrist outside the Nine Acres Cafe counting cars as the southerly broke into fragments the barista’s earnest feathered design I’m thinking of how you plaited the ingot beads and bound up the kneaded lot over your shoulder like a Scandinavian sweetbread a triage of green years passed to … Continue reading House H(a)unting, Fish Creek Victorian
Author: James Walton
How much do I love thee
How much do I love thee? Of all the worlds matter make nought: Scrape up the limitless sands of Arabee Cry nil and cancel ancient debates fought, Loose the arrow that brings doom to the phoenix. Find the perfect seventeenth syllable Confound and master the alchemist’s tricks, Write down the unsaid of the embalmers table. … Continue reading How much do I love thee
Pax Romanus (I, II, III) Spare Us, the Conquered
I The fascist weeds the garden Such love in pulling out, Care granted to save the soil and replenish With self made compost of previous remains. They should have known his bitter truth Of all he did for them unrequited; In gentle torture he weeps for his people, And how the day goes down so … Continue reading Pax Romanus (I, II, III) Spare Us, the Conquered
They shoot airmen, sometimes
My neighbour died alone in a settler’s cottage on a hill with a dam that wouldn’t repair he went after her although for a while she moved the keys around with a silence that wouldn’t mend not that he minded her grace in easy tides had always knocked him sideways bent him like a conjurer’s … Continue reading They shoot airmen, sometimes
The Lone of Jimmy Tambo
a starless sky changes to oiled boards island palms leak into the past iron at large in the sunsets of hatted faces the manacled lion knows the voice of restless pawing whether it’s by elephant man cripple dwarf two head or in the juggle of homesick blues wavy distance overwhelms the seas circus merry go … Continue reading The Lone of Jimmy Tambo
Four chisels
With two working around the spoiled wood wet rot shredding a soft sleeting acquaintance the largest cuts cedar board of the old forest East of my thoughts this remnant for the finest a breeze traffics by late Autumn warmth to land so without past or future’s want repairing a lapsing Federation window when the edge … Continue reading Four chisels
Near Death (Experienced Applicants Only) Please Address the Selection Criteria
Have you used Viagra in the past 24 hours the paramedic asks slightly embarrassed I answer No but is there a box for I wish I had a reason to you can tick while something won’t dissolve under my tongue if death comes here more than an hour to the nearest hospital strapped down how … Continue reading Near Death (Experienced Applicants Only) Please Address the Selection Criteria
Brunch with Parky
I’m not shaking to music or trying to dance my way out of the cup rolling in the saucer. There’s Blues in the shuffle allright; a soundtrack that blew the amp cut the circuit at the wrong wire – didn’t guess it right. Instead it went off all over me, the pulse misfiring. Translation’s lost … Continue reading Brunch with Parky
Boldrewood Parade
I think I finally see clearly out of those trespassed estate streets where the sounds of looking are dusted over by unmade roads like some early Drysdale, a veteran’s emphysema in a backyard shed skew whiff late afternoon shadows stretched children playing cricket the warty rabbitoh with all his skinned specials, next door’s son dying … Continue reading Boldrewood Parade
The I Know a Dead Mountaineer Society, Concedes : A new poem up at Bluepepper
The cherry wood honour roll burns air gasping for lettering a toast for scalers who bathed at the source of the Ganges just so they could divine is Atman Brahman an answer reaching for those beads of months without footing while Bach parades Air on a G String amid foothills of ever decreasing amplitude the … Continue reading The I Know a Dead Mountaineer Society, Concedes : A new poem up at Bluepepper