The places I go …

Wooloweyah 28.6.16 It is akin to a dream, this dense clump of trees unfolding before me, reaching so sharply into the sky. As I walk through the forest under canopies of palms and eucalypts and a discord of screaming birds, my feet arrive at a bog. I'm at the lip of a lake I cannot reach for … Continue reading The places I go …

Where in the world are you, Carmen Sandiego?

Life. It gets in the way. That's why I haven't blogged for three months because there's been a lot going on. For the last month or so, I've been down with the lurgy (the flu), but after two courses of antibiotics, probiotics, lots of vitamins, good food and rest, I'm on my way to being back … Continue reading Where in the world are you, Carmen Sandiego?

Haiku at the hospital

Waiting. I do a lot of it. Instead of people watching or reading, today I wrote down these during an emergency clinic appointment. I've been a little generous with the traditional 5,7,5 form of haiku. After all, I'm no Basho ... Brooding black cockatoo, beak smooth like old rosin, honeyed and forgotten. * Tawny frogmouth, … Continue reading Haiku at the hospital

New year pastoral

Loose udders and mucus plugs signals new life on the grass and clods of dirt. Lilies dance on water the way flies hover over fresh meat. A heifer drops its snout into the trough to drink – not greedily, but more delicately, sucking on the water in a docile way – fickle for a beast. Pebbles, clumps … Continue reading New year pastoral

Patterns of women

Girls in short shorts; legs like shotgun barrels sequestering any kind of desirability that youth and beauty are prerequisites to relevance; an auspice for being.   Flying high over an echo, the girls want not to be dead heroes as they amble through gutters choked with locks of hair from the children they will never see.   Hands … Continue reading Patterns of women

Eating beans on Sunday

I chew this vitamin rod with fresh haste, with molars that rub and pattern a paste. With a curl of bean between hub of thumb and nub of index finger, my mouth corkscrews and I fox away time thinking I should've cut my teeth on diamonds or tin.   Loreena chants from Morocco, I assemble hypotheses … Continue reading Eating beans on Sunday

When silence is deafening

'Silence is safer than speech' - Epictetus Silence. Do we ever truly know what it is? What of the white noise that sweeps over our everyday lives, or the incidental noise that punctures the air? What does silence look like? This photo I took today is what silence looks like for me, out here. Thousands of miles … Continue reading When silence is deafening

Providore

There is no indecision. Just the untangling of hair you manage to do so elegantly just as your door rises akimbo to the air.   The clang of chain takes a crack at chipping away your softness, but nothing can touch you.   You graft to my pupil; that absence of fear swimming in your eyes; sailing … Continue reading Providore