
fallow
even as I beat these keys with my fist / they resist, spring springs back
I groan, hammer the veins in my head / as if effort would suffice
all winter’s rawness: the burnished furrow, the cornstalk wrecks
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fallow
even as I beat these keys with my fist / they resist, spring springs back
I groan, hammer the veins in my head / as if effort would suffice
all winter’s rawness: the burnished furrow, the cornstalk wrecks
(after Charles Simic)
tined from some petrochemical hell / stabbed with it into chook fat
choke my ocean throat / as if Queequeg’s back in the prow
whale-chasing down the swell / 2.3 cents for 200 years
Delighted that my poem – The cyclist has been shortlisted for the South Coast Writers Centre Poetry Award competition – and to be in the company of such a fine group of poets. Many thanks to the judges Sarah Nicholson and Mark Tredinnick – and if you find yourself in Wollongong on Saturday 29 March, come along to the readings.
Also Tall Yellow Poem (a personal favourite) was long-listed for the same competition.
Instead of owning my good fortune — you’re such a lucky fuck, they said —
I started talking extinctions, the medicine someone was going thru
another’s turpitude, crocodile tears on primetime.
sometime soon
the afternoon monsoon
massy clouds will let go
feathered vapour becomes stun-gun
pelts — school-kids, nuns on bicycles, ponies and peonies heavy heads down
all us plain-living things — with life (L…I…F…E…)
gouts and over-spouts
your embrace leaves me drenched
thunder down the hallway.
Image: Margaret Barr’s “Strange Children” [ballet], 1955 / photographer unknown c/- State Library of NSW
Margaret Barr (29 November 1904 – 29 May 1991) was a choreographer and teacher of dance-drama who worked in the United States, England, New Zealand and Australia. During a career of more than sixty years, she created over eighty works.
A quadrille for Dverse where De is hosting and asks us to use the word ‘go’ in our 44 word poem.
And for those of you thawing out from too much winter, here’s Monsoon feat. Sheila Chandra from 1982 with Ever So Lonely
Summer was all hurry: grow and divide ’til hip-height, head-height, bracts of blooms and then green marbles, swollen worlds swirl tight as Titan’s cloud-tops. Adam Smith was right: o joyous economy, this wondrous chlorophyll.
Delighted to have my poem – The Seductive Loveliness of Perspective – published by the Ekphrastic Review. You can read it here – along with the work of many talented poets responding to many talented artists.
There’s lot’s of provocative prompts, competitions and guides to further your ekphrastic practice. Big thanks to Lorette for her wonderful journal.