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

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.

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

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).