Tuesday, November 29, 2011

POEM #9

COOK'S RIVER IRONY

Ensnared by
pneumatophores,
a half-swallowed
shopping trolley
and someone's toilet,
this gaudy, framed
portrait of Ganesha.

LJ, November 30 2011

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

POEM #8

WHAT WAS FOUND IN A SODDEN SANDSTONE CLEFT IN THE VICINITY OF FITZROY FALLS

Glowworms,
like misplaced shards
of kryptonite
or Hulk's tears,
carrying to mind
a Qantas run
in two thousand and three,
where,
en-route to Paris,
I saw the distant
squid-lights
of Filipino fishing
vessels,
pulsing like
fresh stars
in obscene obsidian,
somewhere west
of where eagles
eat monkeys
& militia
eat liberty.

LJ, November 23 2011.

POEM #7

LAST SUMMER

Four cocky climbers
in naval frigate grey
jumpsuits, wave to me
from the wind-smacked summit
of Sydney Harbour Bridge,
as I sit below them on the burnt deck
of a Parramatta-bound ferry,
thinking of how so many of us
prefer strained friendships.

LJ, November 23 2011.

POEM #6

SWAMP POEM

This clamorous
froglet nocturne
sounding, through
the heavy sweat
of northern nights,
like a room full of
giddy kindy boys
popping bubble wrap,
scrunching cellophane
and imitating cicadas
that night they were born.

LJ, November 23 2011.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

POEM #5

SUGAR 'N SPICE AND ALL THINGS VICE

The coroner's report
revealed a liquorice bullet
ended the gingerbread man.

LJ, November 16 2011.

POEM #4

STRANGER

She
passes,
full-rigged,
freighted
with salt-spice:

he happily
drowns in her
perfumed
wake.

LJ, November 16 2011

Thursday, November 3, 2011

NEW & EMERGING WORK

So, the Judith Wright Prize for 'new and emerging' poets (that would be moi) is open again. Peter Minter is judging it. I got nowhere in it last year.

I'm weaving the final stitches into the work, which revolves around the significance of nature in the face of possible terror on September 11 of this year. The piece I'm editing has more of a scatty layout than usual. The lines have been battered my stampeding bison, constricted by boas. I'm proud with the fact that I've loosened up and structured something differently. And that after months of soft focus on this work, everything's become pointed.

And that in the face of knock backs courtesy of Perilous Adventures, Southerly, the Blake Prize, the Dorothy Porter Prize, Australian Poetry Journal, the Dear Dad collection, Cordite & a couple of competitions, I've leapt back on the okapi*.

The poem's due on Nov 15.

LJ, November 4 2011.

* Okapi: weird red-brown and white horse-like beastie from the heart of Africa that can licks its own eyes (always handy).