Showing posts with label australian poet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label australian poet. Show all posts
Monday, February 3, 2014
Bogong Moth by Joe Dolce
A Bogong moth
darts out of
darkness
to seize fire -
it�s burned away its tarsi,
yet
continues to swoop,
kiss, careen, sizzle,
fluttering and
candle-banging
like fawn-crazed Nijinski.
I look up from my book
accepting the
immortal,
fatal dance
of life and light,
like Icarus�s
father
resigned to watch
his flying boy
hurl against
brilliance.
When you were a baby
night
crying,
often the
Monday, October 14, 2013
Thoughts of the Father by Philip Salom
Thoughts of the Father
Ku / Work on What Has Been Spoiled
� Setting right what has been spoiled by the father. Danger. No blame rests upon
the departed father. He receives in his thoughts the deceased father.
It hurts when you know thoughts of the father are in the son
like a repertoire of non-events.
Thinking how the father spoiled the son, the sons
of broken marriages, my own.
Not '
Ku / Work on What Has Been Spoiled
� Setting right what has been spoiled by the father. Danger. No blame rests upon
the departed father. He receives in his thoughts the deceased father.
It hurts when you know thoughts of the father are in the son
like a repertoire of non-events.
Thinking how the father spoiled the son, the sons
of broken marriages, my own.
Not '
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Marco Polo by Ali Alizadeh
Marco Polo
Maybe it�s the natural
extension of immigration. Maybe
it�s the awesome travel
bugs, making my wife�s feet
uncommonly itchy. I�m not
surprised, at any rate, to hear
the paediatrician�s nickname
for our son. �Marco Polo� suits
his - in utero - trajectory
along the Silk Road, from
Kublai Khan�s Forbidden City
to the snow-covered stones of a caravanserai
in central Turkey
Monday, July 15, 2013
A Garage by Robert Gray
In one of the side streets
of a small hot town
off the highway
we saw the garage,
its white boards peeling
among fronds and palings.
The sun had cut a blaze
off the day. The petrol pump
was from the sixties�
of human scale
and humanoid appearance
it had a presence,
seemed the attendant
of our adventures on the road,
the doorman of our chances.
We pulled in, for nostalgia,
onto
Monday, March 18, 2013
Someone forgot to tell the fish by Hal Judge
Someone forgot courtesy and politeness. Someone forgot to rinse off the weed killer. Someone forgot to turn off the billing software. Someone forgot to rent the crowd. Someone forgot to tell the owners of the 4 million cars sold in China. Someone forgot to bring the Zombie-Killing Manual. Someone forgot to tighten the sidestay shackle. Someone forgot to tell Rocky. Someone forgot to strap down
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