Our eyes met over raised beer glass Through colonial window framed One street away your smile dances across your face Leaning against concrete pillar Alone, yet surrounded By family and loved ones and theirs
I took my place standing still Leaning against cold stone wall Looking at you looking at them The liminal space Between my life and yours So comfortable I've become Looking at you looking at them
A whole hoard of strange faces Lining up behind me One by one A metaphor for why you flew away My family stand behind the stone wall silence with me Invisible to all who call you Home
The back of your head and shoulders Is all I see of the show Your reactions much better entertainment Your laugh like a chorus of music Drowned out by decibels of crowd
Vocal sound recorded on cerebral vinyl Memories played by fine needle In daydream's living room The place we inhabit All along with words said That never materialised Fine dust that crackles In the rare groove of 2021 Smash hit of 'us' No amplifier
Do not confuse silence For innocence of years Nor err of grace Forgiveness as No evidence of blame For all the words Daggers and cloaks Stored up for wintry days Till sunny spring A friendly ear Does melt such icy ways
Richea Scoparia at Lake Dobson, Mt Field National Park
Similarities are endless The only colourful one Takes to the mountains At Christmas time Dances in the sunlight Show of flit and wit Across the sky Then disappears before your eyes Waiting all year long To catch a glimpse of wing tips like blue eyes So it is, with you and I
For nigh on a decade Enchanted by tales Of wildest places Where rough edges Bleed out to sea Coarsing through veins Lungs of the world Clutching the land For all its worth From those who take, take..
I trip tentatively Through swathes of natives Unknowingly trampling Rare plants Smudging invasive seed Into mud with sodden tread
No permission to collect I take and take, greedily Hoping vainly To strike a fragile quill A tendril root, a mere bud To bring home all I love
But instead, I raised beds Of shrunken dried specimens Memories snipped from whence they came Never to grow again. Now I learn and dissect Identify how similar or different The naming of all things Already taken place A namesake now only left For stone engraving.
Light and gentle movement Stretch and bolster vitality Sending hope waves through the brain. Invitations to Sunday afternoon Drives winding through rainforest Sunlight dapples breath taking To a hotel nestled in gentle folds Of ancient mountain. Return to oneself. Bathe in possibility lain broken. Dare not feed the narrative of turbulent deep dreams Though if disturbed by slumber's provocative story telling Hope awakens with bird song daily Dreams escaped To a reality which is perhaps dull in comparison.
Morning snow at Mount Field National Park Tasmania
Trials and fails of fiction Matches made in low-lit bars,cafe's and gas stations. Shake off sticky cling of connection plagued by interference. The Editor stands looming over head. Hiding in some alpine cloud or cave under ridgeline. Heavy pen pressed to storyline. Poised, ready to edit me out of one's life.
The Snowgum Trail, Tarn Shelf, Mount Field National Park in Tasmania
Count the stars of heaven 