Hair twisted carelessly back, she squats flat footed - the firm ‘M’ of legs and buttocks, and out front a large round wicker work tray. She bounces peanuts, wispy skins float away, sailing silent on the saline breeze. Evening washes in, ocean displacing shuffled greys. Soft syllables of the mopoke repeating and repeating; drifting to … Continue reading This is My Gravity
We who wander in the orchard are lost, howling with owls, these embittered nights among twisted apple trees. Body parts sloughed as we slumber: the busy din of scalpel bearers saving lives. Lest we forget. I never knew that mourning is a private act a spiral inwards for strength and these dictionaries we call souls. … Continue reading Mastectomy
Me & My Lid On some days in my Lockdown exercise hour the sun has poured its soothing ink quietly like warm milk between still trees and the roads have lain empty as snakeskin between closed houses. And even the birds seemed awed by the largeness of silence. But other days, the madding wind flips … Continue reading Lockdown Moods
after rain (with scattered meteors dark as cracking tar) our drive contains the Milky Way ruptured pearl and snickered light draw my eye is this our galaxy? a jeweled pot hole in the bitumen of space.
in this moment between me and Lorraine’s pink camellia Spring is perfect its face made up debutante fine coming out for the bee season hear the buzz in wattle’s chandeliers I buzz too on steroid’s limb dandled like a madman’s puppet me in autumn’s crazed falling: lost foliage and wanting sleep the camellia and I … Continue reading Remembering Lorraine
It was said that all things must pass: the big wheels turning, turning over the drought-lands, the down-and-out lands cattle skeletons ploughed in like rotted ships fence-posts - frayed and far-fetched zippers - dragging lines of wind-sawn wire – dun and drear the fierce fires rolling, roiling wanton flames - the lunge and buck, the … Continue reading Things that Pass
The sky shiny blue Thai silk - you would rip a portion and hang it like a Mantra curtains leading into the day. Step into the sun the subtle hum of traffic melding with the bees petrol fumes forgotten. Floral scents unfurl rosemary from your herb garden the kalistamon next door a giant Cootamundra wattle … Continue reading How it might’ve been…
I found a notebook from which trumpet song tanned my skin and let me breathe deep the golden sense of persimmons their voices (those poets) never wrinkle, even as pages yellow and my knuckles collect scars. echoes preserved in paper cathedrals splicing the all and nothing of experience poetry our human whale-song *Copyright abigfatcanofworms
water grips the track - glossy contorted discs of weather-based paint beyond today’s Grecian-blue covenant the sun remembers how it is to hold the hose, sprays light just so the dog, stepping stars into the puddle, elucidates galaxies around sleek ankles and in gum leaves’ vertical grating a magpie utters vowels - the fluent stream … Continue reading Tuesday
crude wooden tripods stand tethered human pendulums swinging amongst fumes and fuming damming politicians and incandescent commuters damming the city’s arteries a timely attack the heart on the hill* bloodless while the body rages taut fists enacting death throes of a planet in need *Australia's Parliament House is commonly referred to as "the house on … Continue reading Extinction Rebellion
Out of the Cave 