Poems

Brian Purcell’s ‘2001’

Brian Purcell’s ‘2001’

From Filmworks

1968
I

A small boy beneath a big screen
that begins to split, somersault, explode
at the beginning of an infinite journey.

I look up.
Where was this emptiness
and where was my god

whose worship I had abandoned
for these colours splitting my eyes
and raw space invading my head?

These disembodied voices
like claws of sound
scratch at the fabric of my world

while a horde of priests and priestesses
who fail to sing in key
are praising an entity I don’t know.

One human face
at the centre of the screen
is caught in a mesh of light.

The birth of stars
in plasmas of gold and white
configure our distress

drifting in the cold night
growing, imploding foetuses
broken eggs spreading

across liquid space
and shells beneath magnets
approximate prophets undone

bearing the caskets of angels
while slowly winnowing
the wheat of the stars.

Eclectic flavours escorted by
hexagons in close formation.
Passionate details of cementing cells

untying
salacious pink seas and green skies
watching

the eclipse becoming an oculus
into a room in an upturned palace
where the mirrors silently observe us.

Cocaine Versailles
a place where anyone can live
in a future we can’t know

and shouldn’t try to know
knowing what we know –
that no-one makes it

for when the glass breaks and we see
the vision of our death
why would we consent to be reborn?

II

All of this and more
I saw.
It was Sunday.

I should have been in Mass
to witness again the transmutation
of wine and bread into the body of Christ

but I’d seen something else
beyond understanding:
the birth of doubt

or the origin of poetry.

What was happening?
My mind was firing
expanding.

It was all meaningless
yet meant everything.

As the planets aligned
ahead of me
I looked down

at infinite space
and above.
What kept me

nailed to this place
now that everything was moving?
The glass was broken.

III

55 years ago
when I returned home
my father got a strap

and punished me
for missing Mass.
It was the last time.

Perhaps he sensed
I was lost in a space
he couldn’t and didn’t want to see.

Yet strangely as he hit me
I didn’t feel
any earthly pain.

My mind was still exploring
other dimensions
beyond the reach

of his Catechism.

Brian Purcell’s ‘2001’ Read More »

Sou Vai Keng’s ‘the past smells of something rotten’

Sou Vai Keng’s ‘the past smells of something rotten’

from art of ignorance

like an apple
fallen on a late summer day
buried under a shroud of
dead leaves

a horse carrying a small girl
carelessly steps on it
seeds, exposed, dry
under violent sun

two days later
rain nurtures everything
including maggots

at last reduced into a form
unrecognizable
apple is no more, until

a poet passes by
looks at the tree
up and down
thinks deep into the roots
and writes down the past that
smells of apples
rotten and forgotten

Sou Vai Keng’s ‘the past smells of something rotten’ Read More »

Mickael Crane’s ‘A 1974 Brisbane kind of day’

Mickael Crane’s ‘A 1974 Brisbane kind of day’

From Urban & Landscape/Ordinary Lives

The air traffic controller stood at the window,
as the planes landed lazily on the Tullamarine tarmac.
He took a Nicorette lozenge to quell the urge to smoke
as the afternoon sun shone on the fuselages.
He took a moment to reflect on his past,
remembering cane toads in the back yard
and a headless, plucked chicken hanging on the
clothesline.

He could smell the sponge cake his mother baked
as the young boys played British Bulldog in the park,
while overhead a swarm of flying foxes darkened the
sky.

Schoolchildren carried bags of crackers and skyrockets
telling their friends of their trip to the ‘Ekka,’
where they ate French fries made from Tasmanian
potatoes

and how Wally Lewis gave them a free showbag,
as they petted the lambs and the calves in their pens.

He remembered the parents at the sport carnival
congratulating their children even if they ran last
and the teacher reciting the Ancient Mariner,

as the students let their imaginations carry them away,
and each child was stranded on a floating ship
waiting for the ragged souls to be saved. He
remembered

some of the names of the girls in his class: Renee
Fisher,

Robyn Wells, Patricia Campbell and Brenda Franklin,
and how they danced happily at the Maypole flag.
He can see himself still holding hands with Kim
Andrews,

as they ate fairy floss and Dagwood Dogs at the
Ipswich show.

The phone rings and he is told the Sydney to
Melbourne flight

will be delayed and he marks that down in his log
book.

It’s the kind of day when the future isn’t important
anymore,
as he floats on the cloud of a pleasant daydream.

Mickael Crane’s ‘A 1974 Brisbane kind of day’ Read More »

Carl Walsh’s ‘First’

Carl Walsh’s ‘First’

From Tarp Green Light

my journey began wide-eyed in innocence sun splaying golden light across drunken wheatfield heads intoxicating under red harvester blade as real as fireworks displacing far-off cosmos of darkness and light in shatter of colour wheeling overhead a caravanserai caught in passing of days that trip endlessly forward rain spilling down round Neolithic mound to drain in chalk fields and run on in rivulets forming underground echoes of self as real as summer scented grass crushed underfoot

Carl Walsh’s ‘First’ Read More »

Tug Dumbly’s 5 Short Tadpoems

Tug Dumbly’s ‘5 Short Tadpoems

From Tadpoems 400 Shorts

I peaked years ago and was brilliant.
No one saw. They were all watching
some stupid tree fall.
*
Your fingerprints found
in the dust of a moth’s wing.
Law of Nature catches up.
*
Cat curled up like a cowpat
dust motes settle
sweetly in the sun.
*
Beanbag pollinates
a thousand eggs
strew the gutter.
*
Dawn cup of tea
mist off creek
Platypus gone
circles ring out.

Tug Dumbly’s 5 Short Tadpoems Read More »

Nathanael O’Reilly’s ‘Symptoms of Homesickness’

Nathanael O’Reilly’s ‘Symptoms of Homesickness’

From Separation Blues: Poems 1994–2024

Being brought to tears by Paul Kelly songs.
Never having a dream set outside Australia,
even when you’ve lived in half a dozen countries.
Craving VB, pasties, Minties and Vegemite.
Missing the sound of Richie Benaud’s voice
and the Wide World of Sports theme music.
Buying every book about Australia
or by an Australian
that you ever come across
in second-hand bookstores.
Owning an Akubra, a didgeridoo and a boomerang
even though you have no use for any of them.
Wearing a Wallabies jersey to pubs that show rugby
and insisting on calling everyone you meet mate.
Having an Australian flag in your office, in front
of your house, or tattooed somewhere on your body.
Looking for the Southern Cross in the night sky.

Nathanael O’Reilly’s ‘Symptoms of Homesickness’ Read More »

Huang Fan’s ‘flower maker’

From Flower Ash translated by Josh Stenberg

everyone likens a girl’s
youth to spring
and oh the man moved by a girl’s youth
is whispering
arranging a plastic flower
as though seeking an
unforgettable metaphor for
the nearby girl’s breath
he concentrates, holds his own breath
awaits fragrance too from the plastic bloom
awaits the blow tender as nectar
awaits the blossom seasons like a child
obediently hunkering before him
awaits
even his own forgetting
awaits life’s sickness of the heart
to—with a snip—sever the plastic flower’s
tie with spring

Huang Fan’s ‘flower maker’ Read More »

David Adès ‘From Which I Must Always Wake’

From The Heart’s Lush Gardens

Before skin : eyes :

shy : brown : dreaming timid under lashes :
thieving : stealing sideways glances :

so many little thefts :
at face : at hair : at freckles : at neck :

at hands : at fingers :
at curve and swell beneath dress :

beneath white blouse : beneath : beneath.
*
Skin : what is your testimony?

Whose fugitive hands : long gone :
stroked you : coaxed :

a wanted : unwanted :
wanted : unwanted :

shiver : tremble : quiver : quicksilver :
while you were dreaming : fledgling dreams :

dreaming other : dreaming girl hands?
What is your memory?

Who touched you here : and here?
Who raised his hairy knee :

between your bare legs :
in an empty change room :

whilst others danced The Wedding Dance?
Who arranged to meet you :

during a school lunch break :
furtive amidst the trees and thickets :

the rocks and sculptured ponds :
of the Veale Gardens?

Who lay beside you in the long grass : whispering?
What secrets : have you kept all these years :

what imprints : what scars?
*
Later : I threw away his letters :
the childish rounded script :

something given : something taken away :

Whether from anger : or shame :
I cannot say: the only letters discarded.
*
She lay beneath me : still as a fallen bird :

I was skinbone : stripling : sapling :
lowering my mouth to : her mouth :

my lips to : her lips :
to the soundtrack of Carole King’s Tapestry :

and she : white bloused : golden-haired :
beneath me : still as a fallen bird :

When our lips touched : she didn’t resist :
didn’t respond : and my kiss :

faltered : foundered :
fell between us : still as a fallen bird :

that did not breathe again.
*

We danced : my hands :

(do I imagine this?) : on her white-bloused waist :
round and round : circling : never arriving :

the moments distanced : silent :
the recovered footage of a lost movie :

girl from another land : girl from another world :
girl template : temple of my longing :

girl never found : long lost : girl never known :
How could she know of my longing :

when it was a bone not yet unearthed?
*
If I dream of her now :

I enter the dream I had of her then :
insolence gleaming in her eyes :

at the corners of her fourteen-year-old mouth :
I enter the dream of my heart :

its adolescent pounding :
the dream of my novice lips :

in their timid uncertainty.
*
To fully apprehend a moment :

a singular moment in a vast plurality :
pluck it from obscurity :

and hold it : for a lifetime : with tenderness :
with the concentrated gaze : of the senses :

until its petals open : delicate : flush with colour :
as with : the thirty seven years :

since : the still life : of my fallen kiss.
*
With or without skin :

on skin : against skin : inside skin :
touching : pressing : filling : squeezing : caressing :

imagination partakes : helps itself :
to the fruits of eros : the imagined touch :

the imagined lovemaking : thrust and moan of it :
feel and sound of it : body to body :

spooned : astride : entwined :
sweat and breath : hunger : compulsion :

weight of cupped breasts : tongue’s soft questing :
on nipple : on furrowed skin :

between : between :
moistness on moistness :

her raised bud : my dripping chin :
hunting sighs : hunting shudders :

abdomen’s involuntary contraction :
pungent smell of it : tongued bitterness :

tongued nectar of it :
fingers on glans : on shaft : on testicles :

entering and : entering:
blurred thought of it :

want and want of it : tensed muscles :
arched back : thrust and moan of it :

fullness of it : hope in it :
promise of it : release from it :

transitory release from it.
*
At my very heart :

(in its rhythmic beat :
axiom : gravity well : lightning rod : leitmotif :

the chamber music of love :
call it ventricular love : call it aortic love) :

is the dream of a woman :
a woman with many faces : many bodies :

known : and unknown :
a woman never displaced : by circumstance :

Always there : in the years of solitude :
the years of living alone :

the years between lovers :
and whilst there were lovers :

and in the midst of a marriage :
the dream of a woman :

same dream : different dream :
dream of being accepted :

dream of being received :
with open arms : with open heart :

with love : with ferocity : uncompromised dream :
that no woman can match :

from which I must : always wake.
*
Meet me here :

where the wilderness of the unspoken :
meets the wilderness of the spoken :

where mirages shimmer in the distance :
in the fierce heat :

I am tired of sifting : my heart’s rumpled
pornography : I am tired of trying : to articulate :

Meet me here : and fill my ears :
with sweet nothings : show me :

the ripe body of your lust :
Bring to me : your willingness :

your questing hands : your needing lips :
Bring to me : the sly curve of your mouth :

dancing devils in your eyes :
your unappeased heart :

Bring to me : your naked loveliness :
your unasked questions : your hot wet urgency :

Take from me : the fire from my furnace :
my quiet incantations : my un-beached poems :

Come to me : unguarded : vulnerable :
heart and body open :

Meet me here now :
before night’s sharp cold arrives :

and let us fuse : in the heat of this wilderness.

David Adès ‘From Which I Must Always Wake’ Read More »

fierCe

Angie Contini’s ‘fierce’

from fierCe

eve
will you choose to be fierce now?
and in becoming fierce be free
this restless mess is for keeping not culling
this weight for wanting not mocking
when mocking will end you and me


eve
will you choose to be fierce?
with belt on your back nine times
and soap on your tongue
and snake at jaw
unjam your pasted-up mouth and roar


eve
when you feel yourself empty
there are bodies within you
yet thrown
yet cast
yet shaped
eve, are you listening?
all fragile mess and pushed-down soul
be the thing pushed down
be the ache in the neck of the earth
for this is our atlas
the myth we’re in
this holding onto things
and holding things up
it’s a way
to keep you–us–
held in


and eve
when you’re subtle
and an unseen flame
there’ll be veins to purge
a future to ripen
mocking to kill
and masks to shed


and there, eve
you’ll be art
we’ll find a plinth for your mess to be read


eve, will you choose to be fierce now?

Angie Contini’s ‘fierce’ Read More »