the man who was the bull who was the snake sheds his skin then rises up new once more he wears the hide that was buffalo adjusts the mask and becomes the deer through the snout of wolf through the eyes of owl he knows this is the time through the feet of bear he … Continue reading shaman (to the hunt)
it is still cold here surprising when the spring progression so often throws up glorious days of promising sun and glowing warmth the evidence is presented by a wattlebird ugly grey-speckled harridan of the garden red-cheeked raucous and discordant squawker of alleged birdsong raising its head from among the leaves of a flowering gum to … Continue reading a spring smoke ring
there will be a clue in violets when the perfume rises to force a turn to halfway across your shoulder searching for a source elusive and subtle another will gleam inside sunlight arrayed to warm you with a faint suggestion of inner glow emerging to transpire porous and enlightened there will be a third in … Continue reading Clues
I used to ride each morning around the places I'd set my traps to collect a handful of scrawny bunnies I'd go out to check them before anyone else had risen I slipped a foot off the pedal one day when I was wearing thongs tore my toes on bitumen I turned the bike around … Continue reading of lying still and colour
the visitor on the verandah with a sinuous slip was away into out of the washing basket head down towards the uncut grass sliding ess-es ess-es hell for leather one blink and he was gone well before my legs would move before I could cry aloud a s-s-s-s… honey it’s a s-s-s… I call my … Continue reading s-s-s-strength
darling it's magnificent what a creation beautiful colours and so stylish I simply love it it's only when I look a little closer a few small things make me wonder that seam threaded across the bust reminds me just a tiny bit of something I saw several seasons ago I think it perhaps a little … Continue reading Dress Sense
it's the chill hours those darkness ones when the bed hasn't been enough and footsteps have led to the place on the porch where the stars are an expression as brittle as feeling those hours when a curl of smoke unravels while the goose-bumps rise into encroachment by a shiver from the surrounding silence no-one … Continue reading those hours
the summer parchment is beneath my feet and I am writing you a letter from the stilled wetness that is no longer stream or creek algae chords a trail of texture forming words to etch with the spiked point of a stick broken clear from its skin to show itself in dull brown and brittle … Continue reading summer parchment
the king is dead I know for it fell to me to end him with my noose I strangled until he was gone I wished him only good you know I truly bore no malice but when the stars align their circuit complete each must play his part and so done is done long live … Continue reading the first lord’s song
the world was built from passion the dancers rose up out of the centre red-sheathed and entwined emerging smooth from the living orange to swirl around each other blended in motion ta-ra-ta-ta tara-ta-tata-ta-ta ta-ra-ta-ta he bent her backwards her hair fell low in it’s wake a forest ta-a-ra-ta-ta they kicked out together and where their … Continue reading through passion (hey!)
