in a pearlescent gloom where voices penetrate unheard like bird beat carols or the milky secrets of she-oaks we three (the off-white dog, and sadness and I) share a moment crooning for a currawong chick fallen among the detritus of last night’s storm snail trails and pine whiskers and the scribbled stains of gum leaves … Continue reading baby bird
I never saw until this wet spring those tiny dark purple flowers on the bush near the letterbox the one with variegated leaves it’s bare of blossoms again now, come and gone like crying it’s the washing of time suds like purple flowers or the throat-grip of tears it’s the wetness makes the tears and … Continue reading Circles
cram into a coolamon feel the tuck the grain and writhe the surge of ancient sap contort like a treble clef into the loops and dangles of self criticism concentric rings smaller ever smaller winding in with melancholy's suck consumed to the very centre the heartwood and there: tears may seep darkening like blood slowly … Continue reading Gloom
Out of the Cave 