Posts
Friday, September 26, 2008
Hawthorn, the Hawks, have made the Grand Final to play Geelong, the Cats, at the MCG this Saturday. I'm supporting the underhawks. They have five fantastic indigi players - Mark Williams, Chance Bateman, Cyril "Junior" Rioli, Cameron Stokes and last but not least, Lance "Buddy" Franklin. Buddy is the most althletic, graceful, powerful, marvellous player I've ever watched. He's still like a big Great Dane puppy too, not always sure of what he's doing. I really love to watch the sheer thrill he gets from being out there on the grand stage of finals footy. Can the MCG still hold 100,000 people? If so, they'll be there on Saturday. Logic says the wrecking ball that is Geelong will win, but I'm barracking for the Hawks since the Maggpies and Bombers have bombed out. I'll be watching round at the neighbours' place. Battered cat, anyone?
Friday, September 12, 2008
shadow got lost
cargo ships
containers
your shadow got lost
when you came through here
10 days ago
back on your way out to sea
cargo ships
containers
your shadow curls around my body
your arms a deadlock
I fought 10 days ago
laughing
wrestling
twisting
fighting
pin you back onto my bed
the wonder in your eyes
acquiescing
cargo ships
containers
lashed down with your will
the swell splashing in the strait
lurching 10 gallon drums
singing like whales
of fiery orange, yellow
banging in the north easterly
heading purposefully out to sea
but your shadow stayed here
belonging time
sleeping spooned with me
belonging time
as the sun
circumnagivates
our bed
containers
your shadow got lost
when you came through here
10 days ago
back on your way out to sea
cargo ships
containers
your shadow curls around my body
your arms a deadlock
I fought 10 days ago
laughing
wrestling
twisting
fighting
pin you back onto my bed
the wonder in your eyes
acquiescing
cargo ships
containers
lashed down with your will
the swell splashing in the strait
lurching 10 gallon drums
singing like whales
of fiery orange, yellow
banging in the north easterly
heading purposefully out to sea
but your shadow stayed here
belonging time
sleeping spooned with me
belonging time
as the sun
circumnagivates
our bed
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Slow fuse
on through the night following she thought about the night before
there had been a small ember left at the heart of the burnt-out
section and when the extreme dark swallowed her and the morning
was at its zenith of cold the secret barely-there coal throbbed faintly on
a day later she was scrubbing at the stains in the jail issue clothing
when a shower of sparks fell in the southern section
a crack of coal split open the corner of her eye blazed tangerine
a string of poets gathered by a brazier singing
in the distance in the rain a meteorite entered the sea
the swamp grew the ruins charred artists took charcoal
the stains disappeared from the jail issue clothing
the frogs came, and they sang too
one day we will be free
we will be free on day
there had been a small ember left at the heart of the burnt-out
section and when the extreme dark swallowed her and the morning
was at its zenith of cold the secret barely-there coal throbbed faintly on
a day later she was scrubbing at the stains in the jail issue clothing
when a shower of sparks fell in the southern section
a crack of coal split open the corner of her eye blazed tangerine
a string of poets gathered by a brazier singing
in the distance in the rain a meteorite entered the sea
the swamp grew the ruins charred artists took charcoal
the stains disappeared from the jail issue clothing
the frogs came, and they sang too
one day we will be free
we will be free on day
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
splittism
our crockery is decrepit
I buy new crockery
I stand on my toes in K-Mart
and reach for a cheap
plain white set
on the top shelf.
marked down.
“made in China”.
it has flaws in it
but it is beautiful
flaws are at the heart of beauty.
I like to eat and watch tv
: exactly what was banned
in childhood.
ah, the simple, deep pleasure
of disobeying
on TV tonight there
is a secret documentary
filmed undercover in Tibet
I hear the plate I’m eating off
may have been made
by forced labour in Tibet
and labeled
“made in China”
I have also bought
towels today.
two creamy, one slate –
cotton, “made in China”.
one hand towel
the first I have ever owned.
I suspect this is decadent
even if it came from Safeway
a woman is talking with
the bottom of her face hidden
she has been sterilized
without anesthetic.
she shows the scars.
if I could give her
my hand towel, I would.
it is slate, quite lovely.
the hand towel was
“made in India”.
the Tibetan government in exile
is in Dharamsala, in India.
thank you India.
a man talks about handcuffs.
apparently there are several kinds.
ones for the thumbs.
some for the wrists that cut the wrists
for a picture of the Dalai Lama
they could hang you from the ceiling
your hands would be cut off
and so you can stand on your toes
at just the right height
you can stand all night
when they release you
you aren’t much chop at working
(that’s what one old man says)
the interviewer went undercover
for three months
in Tibet
his face is very sweaty
how can I watch this bravery
in the magnificent brilliance of Tibet
as brilliant as a mountain blood pheasant
red and green?
I wish all of the governments
of the world had missed
the opening ceremony
of the Olympic Games
I wish no-one and gone at all
how can I afford
my disobedient pleasure?
I switch off the brilliant
colours of my TV.
of course
it is “made in China”.
I buy new crockery
I stand on my toes in K-Mart
and reach for a cheap
plain white set
on the top shelf.
marked down.
“made in China”.
it has flaws in it
but it is beautiful
flaws are at the heart of beauty.
I like to eat and watch tv
: exactly what was banned
in childhood.
ah, the simple, deep pleasure
of disobeying
on TV tonight there
is a secret documentary
filmed undercover in Tibet
I hear the plate I’m eating off
may have been made
by forced labour in Tibet
and labeled
“made in China”
I have also bought
towels today.
two creamy, one slate –
cotton, “made in China”.
one hand towel
the first I have ever owned.
I suspect this is decadent
even if it came from Safeway
a woman is talking with
the bottom of her face hidden
she has been sterilized
without anesthetic.
she shows the scars.
if I could give her
my hand towel, I would.
it is slate, quite lovely.
the hand towel was
“made in India”.
the Tibetan government in exile
is in Dharamsala, in India.
thank you India.
a man talks about handcuffs.
apparently there are several kinds.
ones for the thumbs.
some for the wrists that cut the wrists
for a picture of the Dalai Lama
they could hang you from the ceiling
your hands would be cut off
and so you can stand on your toes
at just the right height
you can stand all night
when they release you
you aren’t much chop at working
(that’s what one old man says)
the interviewer went undercover
for three months
in Tibet
his face is very sweaty
how can I watch this bravery
in the magnificent brilliance of Tibet
as brilliant as a mountain blood pheasant
red and green?
I wish all of the governments
of the world had missed
the opening ceremony
of the Olympic Games
I wish no-one and gone at all
how can I afford
my disobedient pleasure?
I switch off the brilliant
colours of my TV.
of course
it is “made in China”.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Detainee 002 (for David Hicks)
Detainee 002 is back
He’s wearing this jumpsuit like a tradie
and it’s a blood orange colour
like a day-glo explosion
in the gloom of the news at six
And there’s a pixelated stumble
cos he’s tripping down the stairs of the jet
short-shackled/ wrist to ankle
Detainee 002 is back
from Guantanamo Bay
But these new chains
are like the old chains -
rewind 1788:
sailing into focus
come 11 convict hulks
casing for a place
to start rendition
He’s wearing this jumpsuit like a tradie
and it’s a blood orange colour
like a day-glo explosion
in the gloom of the news at six
And there’s a pixelated stumble
cos he’s tripping down the stairs of the jet
short-shackled/ wrist to ankle
Detainee 002 is back
from Guantanamo Bay
But these new chains
are like the old chains -
rewind 1788:
sailing into focus
come 11 convict hulks
casing for a place
to start rendition
Monday, June 09, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
The Runt
(for R.F.K.)
You were the smallest brother of the three
- the one your father called The Runt
- your teeth a tad bucked you were
small next to your broadshouldered brothers John and Ted
running your hand through your hair
a shy determined sweat in a suit and tie
at the deep south summer country town campaigning
eyes like bleached Levis slant down on the edge of the shot
We drank the truth, heard it tumble from your mouth
through opiated lies and paralysed hands,
rattlesnake poison you saw and named,
cut and sucked and spat out.
(You never hear that kind of dangerous talk now Bobby
- nowadays they bind the poison in.)
You named the slow ‘violence of institutions;
indifference and inaction and slow decay.’
Poisons ‘because their skin has different colors.’
and ‘the slow destruction of a child by hunger
This is the breaking of a man's spirit…
And this too afflicts us all.’
Meanwhile ‘Please pay to the order of/ to the order of’
Sirhan Sirhan wrote in his diary (or so they claimed).
‘My determination to eliminate R. F. K./ is becoming
more the more [sic]/ of an unshakable obsession …
‘Please pay to the order of/
to the order of’
‘…look for scapegoats… for conspiracies …
this sickness from our soul’
LA 12.15 am
5 June 1968
Having just won the California Democratic Primary
your words a banner in the wind from a fire rising
poetry for tongues stapled to silence
past John’s assassination
even King’s
a new rush of hope
then
in the food service pantry
of the Ambassador Hotel
an El Greco comes to life
falling bodies and blooming blood
Five shot yet somehow all survived
but Bobby …
In your ruddy pelt a gunpowder scatter
your jacket hole-punched
Young bellboy kneels cradles your head,
rosaries your hand …
Your pooling halo draws the flash bulbs
pop pop pop echo of gunshots but
you’re at absolute peace now Bobby
though the world
writhes around you
Who will guard us from the guardians?
And did they take Marilyn too?
And the evidence, that too?
And where did your words fly Bobby,
out of the hole of the blasted public throat?
Did they fly south for the endless winter of our bloody discontent,
this terrible quickening we face now without you?
I am ashamed and furious – where
did your words fly Bobby?
Robert F. Kennedy’s speech ‘On the Mindless Menace of Violence’ was delivered April 5, 1968, at the City Club of Cleveland, Ohio, the day after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr, and a year and a half after his elder brother, President John F Kennedy was shot in office. Exactly two months later he himself was assassinated. Words in italics are quoted fragments of this speech.
(for R.F.K.)
You were the smallest brother of the three
- the one your father called The Runt
- your teeth a tad bucked you were
small next to your broadshouldered brothers John and Ted
running your hand through your hair
a shy determined sweat in a suit and tie
at the deep south summer country town campaigning
eyes like bleached Levis slant down on the edge of the shot
We drank the truth, heard it tumble from your mouth
through opiated lies and paralysed hands,
rattlesnake poison you saw and named,
cut and sucked and spat out.
(You never hear that kind of dangerous talk now Bobby
- nowadays they bind the poison in.)
You named the slow ‘violence of institutions;
indifference and inaction and slow decay.’
Poisons ‘because their skin has different colors.’
and ‘the slow destruction of a child by hunger
This is the breaking of a man's spirit…
And this too afflicts us all.’
Meanwhile ‘Please pay to the order of/ to the order of’
Sirhan Sirhan wrote in his diary (or so they claimed).
‘My determination to eliminate R. F. K./ is becoming
more the more [sic]/ of an unshakable obsession …
‘Please pay to the order of/
to the order of’
‘…look for scapegoats… for conspiracies …
this sickness from our soul’
LA 12.15 am
5 June 1968
Having just won the California Democratic Primary
your words a banner in the wind from a fire rising
poetry for tongues stapled to silence
past John’s assassination
even King’s
a new rush of hope
then
in the food service pantry
of the Ambassador Hotel
an El Greco comes to life
falling bodies and blooming blood
Five shot yet somehow all survived
but Bobby …
In your ruddy pelt a gunpowder scatter
your jacket hole-punched
Young bellboy kneels cradles your head,
rosaries your hand …
Your pooling halo draws the flash bulbs
pop pop pop echo of gunshots but
you’re at absolute peace now Bobby
though the world
writhes around you
Who will guard us from the guardians?
And did they take Marilyn too?
And the evidence, that too?
And where did your words fly Bobby,
out of the hole of the blasted public throat?
Did they fly south for the endless winter of our bloody discontent,
this terrible quickening we face now without you?
I am ashamed and furious – where
did your words fly Bobby?
Robert F. Kennedy’s speech ‘On the Mindless Menace of Violence’ was delivered April 5, 1968, at the City Club of Cleveland, Ohio, the day after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr, and a year and a half after his elder brother, President John F Kennedy was shot in office. Exactly two months later he himself was assassinated. Words in italics are quoted fragments of this speech.
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