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

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

The speed of light, suburban Voyager

and my heart is banging aboutan unbalanced washing machineon floorboards gone softI slow for the next few hundredpast the pre-fab housewith Babylon vegetable bedswhere the pink purple magenta whitelemon red callistemons shower a spectrum of singing bees and I start again for another cyclethe elderly couple younger than meargue over the asparagus bedbut I’m flying, … Continue reading The speed of light, suburban Voyager

I’ll lay down with dictionaries (and you)

When we are too oldfor the Crosswordand the swallow comes earlysinging for a lost partner when out of seasonthe whip bird’s tuning forkcalls the humble circleout of a lasso’s embrace sky writing your namein that opened portalvowels and consonantsplaced inside the circumference dangling missing letterswe have chanced for canvassa wily clue you gave meof secrets … Continue reading I’ll lay down with dictionaries (and you)

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