supporting local Artists
supporting local Artists
from Kata Tjuta’s red domed monoliths the wind laments across desert plains to solitary Uluru dawn breaks splashing the shore I collect shells and sea glass, wonder at their journeys at his grave beside fresh dug earth I’m surrounded by…
under the vastness and stardust of outback skies mosquito whine-slap – her homecoming an itch that always entails scratching each elegant whirl the silence of windmills south coastal background to the dervish clash of toddlers and waves oppressive the heat…
hiding the past sealing the creek under stone doesn’t halt its flow or storm-induced rebellion reminding us this is Naarm — Elizabeth Street, CBD Melbourne, VIC my home in winter is mild and evergreen; I was not prepared for snow-blanketed…
the wallaby in pursuit of safety leaves her joey the things I left behind seemed unimportant then dingo dawn shadows cross the sand footprints on my doorstep fade in the light the vast desert of Australia’s centre in my hand…
brooding maroon-dyed clouds blown by the Hira-oroshi part for an instant sunbeams on Lake Biwa gilding my blissful heart — Lake Biwa, Japan rounded hills cross-laced by cattle tracks surround Korumburra cows arranged like cardboard cut-outs from the yellow grass…
in the ranges breathing mint majestic mountain ash stretch pearly arms into the blue — Gunyah, Strzelecki Ranges
from the lighthouse path the curvature of the earth blurs the horizon if you choose to stop and see the edge of the world
beyond our back fence the greys of empty warehouses inside our yard garden pollinators throw spring parties dismal day — container yards block the sun as asbestos fragments float across an agapanthus parking lot Tottenham station — I play the…
paper daisies bloomprofuse under ironbarksrooted in mullocktough as desecrated grounda goldrush everlasting — Kennington Reserve/Reservoir, Dja Dja Wurrung country, Bendigo, VIC
after the march the scent of rosemary blends with beer . . . ‘come in spinner’ shouts from the two-up circle another red dawn bleeds across eastern sky . . . the old grazier escapes sweat-damp sheets in his search…