2360
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17.vi.26
it’s
on the spot
ekphrastic
for Georgia Szmerling’s 2026 ‘reflection of pond with nature’
pretending stillness
called to hours
how a sky blooms
all to a frame of rain
one cannot call the colours
but here’s a beak, an eye
and the creatures
come grief upon rise
we are all hiding
you won’t find any of us now
you won’t find anything here
2359
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16.vi.26
a
quiet desperation
ekphrastic
for Fred McCubbin’s 1896 ‘on the wallaby track’
ticks, snakes, spiders
just for a start
expect sun to burn
tent to leak
the natives
no, they’re taken care of
why,
and what were you thinking
here’s a little shade away from the tent
little languish
belt holding up the pants for now
the grass like rust, a gnarl of trunk
nothing yet a stump
axe holds down the wind
gather twig bent to the billy
do you think it floods here?
summer’s coming
it gets away
the child is showing how half a chance
we’d all crawl off
this one’s a biter
the wallabies have fled
everything’s ready for settlement
nothing will ever grow straight here
soon this will all be fire
2358
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15.vi.26
set
afloat
ekphrastic
for Lorna Robertson’s 2023 ‘Love and loneliness of a young mother’
mannequin pale gone faceless
at least here are some lips
why corsetly
smudge wove bent
there’s the cloud of coiffure
a dripstreak stocking trim
it’s cheering to be so outgazed
to measure silence
let lines run
elsewhere must appear
it’s only the shoes point on
2357
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14.vi.26
mid
winterlight
Gore
Cove Track Series
everything’s larger
with weather
and under a hat
no clock
but cloud to hide a sun
grass grows over rot
how old is what’s before?
brackish whiff
in leafspill
a sandstone wall
the dead stand a long while yet
and I, to catch breath
taking all this in
magpie riff
crow caw
touch of sky
or a voice thrown
stairs are an upward haul
so there’s my tide gone out
some hammering and unwise saws
bitter engines of the city hum
I come for the daydark here
make an X on the page
it’s wherever my feet fall
treasure marks the map
2356
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13.vi.26
a footlong dog at the Burgomaster
fifty years ago
boys’ own
who
could we cram behind the backseat of the beetle?
T! A drove his tripping once, not far
that
cannot have been a good idea
mainly
we were on foot until then
or
else on two wheels, self propelled
and
sometimes there were brakes
the
train for more remote adventures
there
was the Charles, there was the Greengate
no
bouncers, but they’d size you up
there
was the uncles’ Christmas Scotch
mum
and dad didn’t drink, would never miss
three
of us down at the old quarry
a
three way split, vomit
these,
it turned out
were
all survival skills
2355
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12.vi.26
the picture gets bigger and bigger
for Ralph Wessmann
don’t we call that kind of thing progress?
a world expands as we describe
worlds multiply
they shine their suns
make moons of a latest fling
take all in
the picture gets bigger bigger
we’re all from a song sheet singing
thing to sneak past, lurk in a crack
doesn’t matter what you think
always leave a trail
life lengthens to be lived
and in the end, sink
to the full extent of this law
it’s like looking out from the whale’s jaw
before you’re counting the ribs
2354
7.161
11.vi.26
walking
in the after rain
a
Tuesday trickle mist singing
light
never to be repeated
falls
and
then the sun again
a proof
stand
on a leaf
set
beak to meditation
the
cleft and settle mist and clear
shows
up a valley fold
one
goes on from here
these
are the bones of my day
