oz journal

    i.    Sydney

    after darwin muggylessheatfueled goodrendang reading slamdunked into sixam kingsford roomfree   

    exoticism of european literature theblackman rushdiepal nodding yesyesitisthusly

    howardoverpizza politics   presigned booklauchterlaugh politeness youreinchinatownsurelyoucanfindsomeonetotalkto allergy

    birrabirragal  dunbar  flowered foreveryoungjohnnyloved gap  driveon  o bronte  range is the new depth

    big les bellychortled waterspills the crowd winelicking from his paws loves the candlenickingfromthenuns fatboy tale aworkofgenius

    bangarra bangra  found aubade   lipsigh oysters  the tomyam of poetry

    ii.    Byron Bay

    Where the heart opens there are forests of gum and palm and sea almond parting into sea and  a lighthouse warns of hope: Harbour may be near. Warm beds, welcome company, undemanding suppers served on time without suspicious glances.  The back of an arched shore, supple curve of seabirds thrown against the blue current and loving the dash, the thrill, the bracing dance among a wheeling flock, and never once alone. New patterns among the  driftwood spell out surrender.  There is room for silence.  Every step a giving up to time the meaning of a step by refusing closure.  Out there is another field, beyond ideas of trespass and leisure, just past the parked cars and holiday homes, the secret island.  There are snakes in the grass, not deadly, and there are spiders among the ruined webs.  A path is found because others follow and then one day the rain makes sense.

27 October 2011   01:23 hours
broken morning { } earshot