the day after you died
I looked for you
the dead linger like mist on a river
people gather like flowers
to bring solace
float on busyness
I feel you walk with me to your grave
funerals are full
the next day and the one after
empty
once the sun warms you disperse on the wind
gone but for the lingering scent on your pillow

I walk these woods
watch suns rise and rains fall
the hound at my heel is friendlier than I
she greets others as long lost
time and again
I soak up her joy
a nose touched
a bow made
at leash ends
humans smile and nod
or exclaim
at birds songs
the river’s rush
a canine confidant
tomorrow we will meet again

We walked to Sealers Bay, four of us, all women
Bleeding Madonnas on a pilgrimage in the rain, together yet alone
each to her own journey
Moving like the floods of 2011, ready to take out any obstruction
Mud ******* at our feet, rainforest leeches suckling our blood like desperate children
The rhythm of my feet set off a reverie of how I lost my mind just a moment ago.
I found it again, blood pumping in my ears, heart pounding like thunder
The sweat running down my neck made me think of you…wondering where, how, who?  
A futile fancy
Still the rainforest clings to me, my feet echoing on the boardwalk,
the sound of running water filled with tannins
emotions of the forest flowing beneath my feet to Sealers Bay
A beach once stained with the blood of whales lies calm and blue, deceptive
A moment of sunshine found me sprawled on the sand, waves of exertion washed over me
The repose was fleeting.
Nature interrupted sending a shower, and a chill up my spine
A journey is rarely one way and retracing my steps is like retracing a lifetime
…would it have been better if?..
Eventually I turn my mind skyward to a flock of black cockatoos screeching like banshees at the women trudging one foot in front of the other in a winter forest
Nineteen kilometres of contemplation can quieten a busy mind, it is the number of surrender and endurance
The feeling of my toenail lifting in my boot is strangely cathartic
like a mistress, how pain focuses thoughts on the detail
I see tiny red Correas, the *** organs of plants, there for the pleasure of others
My buttocks and calves scream as the incline of the hill steepens, spurring me on
pleasure in pain makes you forget yourself, and the forest
there's just breathe and movement and rhythm

A girl stood on a stage with an old suitcase open
airing the ***** laundry of generations
An old woman turned in her grave
If only she could rise up
she would put the world to rights
create order from the chaos the girl embraced
put everyone back in their place
The audience cringed
and cackled
someone else's stuff is so much more palatable than your own
the crumbs of life swept under the carpet where elephants live
A family watched on
divided
filled with pride, and prejudice
A girl stood on the stage
changing the terms and conditions to suit the beat of her own drum

moments of stillness between the notes of a melody
speak volumes across the space to your vacant stare
in a distant field winters knife cuts icicles from frozen trees
while you cut words from cloths made of steel
throwing them like daggers into a crowded room
demons wear party hats sewn by your own shaking hand
dancing like embers from the heart of your womb
and the problem of truthfulness cannot touch your heart
as you gather your goslings in the face of a gale
beautiful and dangerous combine in a ***
and the masquerade of normalcy erupts to the moon
but knights seldom travel without squires
and one turn of the carousel finds me standing by your side
like a bidder at an auction I point out silence in a distant field
where nature pours balm on a troubled soul
cogitation and abstraction combine through a glassy prism
until your existence is no longer left in doubt

Your beauty is stark
and dangerous
Struck by your presence
I am caught between attraction
and repulsion
love and fear
Drawn Like a moth
to a burning pyre
Will you take me
or torment me?
In the heat of the day
your rage simmers
beneath the blistering sun
that in the cool
of the evening
surrounds me with love
To stay or go
a question forever
playing on my lips

Caught between Spring and Summer
like the moment between life and death
when the vestiges of youth still shimmer
beneath a fading light
that once brightened the world

When we come together
you relinquish willingly
your power
No longer seeking refuge in flight
we are both other and the same
you and I
At once the desire and the desired
escaping the mundanity of existence
to the extraordinary presence of being
The thrill of control without force
strong, fragile and vulnerable
in my hands
that guide your grace
to freedom
Liberty unbound
by fantasies gates

It was late
    four am
I wheeled around
when I heard a sound
    clear as the night
your finger on the trigger
    my lover
…..…..and my killer

You just disappeared
      not a word about where
or why
The sound of your absent footprints
                echo along the empty hallway
         I find comfort in the memory
of how a stray strand of your hair
used to fall gently
              across that beautiful oval face
                                always open to the world
even in its darkest moments

tiny beauties
brighten up
a landscapes
harsh facade
like a lovers kiss
guaranteed bliss

You stand with nature
Lover of trees
Protector of the environment
A lifetime of fighting
The cancerous growth
Of progress
From consuming
Natures gift to the community
It's gradual loss
Your greatest sorrow
But whilst you were looking out
Fighting the good good fight
You didn't notice
That progress
Had found its way
Up under your fingernails
Into your bloodstream
And a new fight had come to you
For your own survival
The knife, the treatment
A new kind of sorrow

a Hills Hoist
holds aloft
singlet's blue
and a small child's dreams
on a quarter acre in Preston

We started out
like a tone deaf five year old playing the violin
All spark and passion
no symphony
wills clashed, words flew
but by god you were beautiful
The attraction grew
Like good wine
with age we mellowed
rough edges smoothed away by the champion of time
The star of my universe
The moon in my sky

He can play the violin
catch it up in your heart strings
The old girl has a lot of life in her yet
Riding ******* through desert storms
smoothes the wrinkles of time from her skin
Now we have electricity I can just flick the switch
and turn her on

Lifting the veil and exposing the heart of the matter
I can see you forgot who you were for a moment
And exposed the person you were meant to be

Eucalypts hang from blue sky railings
The mud is dry, ground is hard
The white ute in the garden
is silent
I love the sound without wind blowers
and lawn mowers
Words are gathering at Newstead
anarchists too
A short story tattoo
Ideas are crowded and loud
galloping around the racetrack
But it's quiet here at the Mudhouse
with the brown dog in the garden

Chunky calloused stubs
made for wielding a meat axe over a carcass
A sweet melody struck from the wreckage of poverties storm
Were you angry because you were short?
They were shooting small animals off the walls

Translate this she said
My heart started to race as the sheet of paper
drifted silently to the table
Letters jumbled together
like the confusion in my head
Am I supposed to speak Spanish?
I did this for the challenge
I am challenged
I can feel it crawling around under my skin
somewhere between pleasure and panic

she sits at the dining table
afternoon sun streaming in
doing battle with the cryptic crossword
cursing the old woman she has become when words elude
the hand holding the pen wrinkled like the armpits of the of the eucalypt branches in the garden belongs to the same old crone who uses the walking stick leaning against the fading arm chair
once upon a time she held court
powerhouse of the labor party
corporate tiger
made her fortune from men in suits who cowered before her fearsome glare perfected in the bathroom mirror along with her makeup
mother, wife, business woman
she did it all and had it all
but time passes slowly with each orbit around the sun
time smoothes, soothes and wears away the edges of youth
luring you towards the twilight of lifes great destiny
the glare faded along with the eyes that now need glasses and a reading light for the evening paper
where once she stood tall against destruction of the environment
now she leans on her walking stick advocating Philip Nitschke and her right to exit at a time of her choosing
the ache in her heart for the lost vibrancy dimmed by the arthritis that makes climbing the stairs an exercise of will
prada heels and armani long ago gave way to swollen ankles, dr scholls and elastic waisted slacks
a life well lived does not make growing old any more appealing
she monitors her own decline as her friends pass away around her one by one
lingering at lifes edge as she tries to convince them its ok to go
wondering when her own turn to go will arrive or if she will find the courage to bring it on before her mind or her body betray her
taking mobility and choice in equal measure

It started with the Sumerians
well before Christ
Sumerians passed the joy plant on to Assyrians
Assyrians in turn to Egyptians
Where the Sphinx sat
in the desert
watching the way to sea decked in poppies
the symbol of sleep and death
feeding Cleopatra's ****** fantasies
Some say she died by the kiss of *****
not a snake
The power of ***** led it on
down the Silk Road to China where it went to war
***** dens spread near and far
Poppies lift poor Afghan farmers out of poverty's embrace
fields of color
fields of blood
In Flanders field remembrance was born
fields of blood red poppies
embrace the bodies of the fallen
The only thing standing between death
and remembering
the symbol of piece
a white poppy

The beat of a black desert heart
Playing a symphony on the strings of time
The inner tide flows in tune
Rising
Falling
Souring
A sweet melody struck from the wreckage of the poverty of storms
Lifted up by communities grace to sing in gods castle
Whilst patent red leather shoes tread the tiles of an economists dream
Imagining creativities warm embrace
When the apple fell from the tree
The wind blew it far away
To an islands peril
And an aching heart
Waiting for news
Of survival

You appear before me, a chance introduction
I feel that familiar flutter deep in my core
I do not let it show
Blonde curls, blue eyes, a warm smile
Who could resist
I observe you quietly, over lunch
You are engaging, I am engaged
Your head tips back exposing the lines of your throat
As your slender fingers raise the oyster shell to your lips
A tremor drifts back and forth between my gut and my heart
O, to run my hands over the curves of your being
To grip those curls as you cry out for more
Your hand brushes mine as the salmon passes between us
An electric tingle runs from my fingers to the curve of my groin
My body no longer pays heed to my brain
No one notices the brief, reflexive flush
You gaze into my heart
And the inner music of chemistry sings me a souring melody
My being, alive with the electricity of forbidden desire
The o, so sweet torture of lust unquenched
Coffee comes and goes, as do you
The excruciating, exquisite glow lingers on

Encase me in nature
smother me in leaves
let me flow with the river
hug me a tree
When mother comes calling
greet her embrace
immerse in her wisdom
universal grace
Yet, we exploit her
pillage her soils
feed from her *******
pollute her with spoils
Scarring her beauty
no thought for her care
t urning our backs
ignoring her tears
But a mother enraged
is a sight to behold
you should be afraid
if her love, she withholds
Her temper will fray
her might will unleash
call us to account
there will be no peace
Fire and brimstone
floods and high tides
eruptions and cyclones
oceans, acidified
The nature I love
the universe of dreams
who sung us a future
unravels before me

Psychedelic flour rains from the sky as a siren sings a melody so sweet it tastes like fairy floss enfolding me in clouds of saintly bliss.  Reality subsides fast into the shade of whimsy shaped in hairpieces parading around the castle of coloured lights hung by the architects of air for our pleasure.  Beer flows along streams of grass lined by flags flying the patriotism of the artists lament crooning over crowds of disciples gathered as the faithful before the alter of sin seeking redemption from life's bright glare.

Just Hangin
Screeching
Squawking
Bickering
Bats

Looking in to the inner space of the minds inner eye
Traces of you in stories written on postcards of sandstone carved at the village well
Tales mixed together as digital palettes spray colors on the psychedelic walls
Looking into the window of the soul brings the outside world to the inside space
Hypnotizing the patient fragile as glass
Shedding a tear for the artists lament illuminating societies collective debt
Alone with your thoughts in a moment of stillness
Madness is like gravity all it takes is a little push

She speaks to me
from the screen
of poets
passion
and poetry
The backdrop
a bookshelf
a piano
a nobel man
I listen from my couch
on the bus
from my bed on a Sunday morning
Mesmerised by the poetic of the speaker
The sound of a passing train on its way to Adlestrop
where Edwards captured a moment of ease
But moments can turn in an instant
like Sexton
lost in the obliquity of bad poetry
***
church steeples
Is poetry lost
out the window of the bus in the rain?
If I am a poet am I in danger
like Silvia
of dying in darkness
in the shade of the yew tree?
For she cannot hear me
though I speak to the screen
of my love for poetry and a dream
The silent piano
a ventriloquist
rescues the poet
and her poetry from the fishhouses of gods sea
Yet I cannot believe in a god
who leaves the beggar I see out the window of the bus
to sleep in the rain alone
In the mill
I grind words for politicians
who make the beds of stone
for the beggar to sleep on in the rain
whilst they fatten the pockets
of the privileged and the rich
I board the bus covered in flour
that sticks to me like guilt
for my part in the grinding
But once on the bus
I must follow my heart
unless it is broken
Then I must lead it to mending
through words tied together with strings and feeling

I float on my back
Down the river
Looking up through the gorge
Rain forest
And the sky
Pouring beauty
Down
Into me
Buoyant
Drifting
The tribal man
Sings me through
Native landscapes
Proud

Rats scurry through my dreams
And my luggage
I sleep
In their house
In the banyan tree
The volcano sunrise
Wakes me with its rumbling
Sprinkling me with black dust
Volcanic plains
Stretch into an ebony desert

I am the other here
white woman
in a black mans world
Ni Vanuatu
Independence Day
celebrating liberation
from my colonial past
taking back control
destiny
red, yellow, black, green
the colours of pride
the strength of the earth
that nourishes freedom

I clean
I cook
I ****
Practicing
Domestic bliss

There's money to be made
from love
Give me a rose
wine me and dine me
I will be your valentine
There's money to be made
from love
Slip me a hundred
I will be yours
skin on skin
whisper sweet nothings
in your ear
desperate for worship
There's money to be made
from the fantasy
of what you think love is
A commodity
to trade
the right price
at the right time
There's money to be made
from love
I'll take it from you
and walk away
leaving you
and the fable in your head
of what love is

I remembered myself
As I am now
As I was then
Living this moment
again and again
Memories of futures past
Imprinting repetition
Over and over
Until the lessons
Are learned
And I can free myself
From the mill I tread
When you and I
Did not dance in circles
Stepping on each other's toes
Repeating the reasons
We argued
Revisiting the pasts
That determined our futures
That we know will unfold
As if we have lived them
Before
The cycle of
Life, birth, death
The same existence
In different disguises
We have already seen
Deja vu, deja entendu, Presque vu

It was oppressive that day
the heat
vegetation withering in its gaze
Possums dropped from trees
Roads melted in the haze
Sweat hugging their skin
they recede into the cool dark
oblivious to the sleeping slayer
waiting to be awoken
A single spark
A discarded cigarette
The roaring wind
a high speed train
driving heat from the depths of hell before it
Ignition
No slow burner
a raging temper
Calamity erupts
Ash eclipse of the sun
Fighters
no strangers to danger
retreat to safer ground
Fire ***** oxygen from air
feeding the inferno
Rips tree trunks from earth
Flames
melt paint from doors
flesh from bones
The fronts pass
the fire recedes
A hush falls on the highlands
in the aftermath
the land a stranger to the observer
Nature stripped to a skeleton
charred bricks, melted glass
The detritus a precursor to recovery
wild flowers nursed by the light kiss of rain

The winter river runs
beneath turbulent skies
feeding river gums
reaching to the heavens
to land beneath the feet of birds
singing the seasons melodies

Bury me beneath the starry night
where I can feel the earth beneath my bones
Lay me to rest by the river
let the waters wash away your tears
Remember me
in birdsong
spring blooms
the light sound of rain on a tin roof
Wrap me in natures alms
take solace in her rhythm

In how many ways can we be lost?
My pen is missing
it's not where I thought it was left
on the table
beside the bed
where it was tossed
I am lost in your words
beyond comprehension
when you talk
I don't follow
Perplexed
bewildered
confused
till you pause
begin again
I ought to have done it differently
you warned
A squandered opportunity
not used to my advantage
to be transformed
I am lost beyond reach
though we talked for hours
you roared
The debate was lost
the battle
the war
Now I cannot find my way
beyond recovery
redemption
flawed
Our language our custom
no longer known
lost
mourned
Have I lost my mind?
Or am I simply lost
in thought?

The restless spirit
moves apace
As if always
almost
out of time
Trying to squeeze into every moment
experiences anew
that may bring it to arrive
at last
at a place of knowledge
wisdom
peace
In our haste to get there
are we missing that which we seek with such urgency?
Is it in the moment that we rush by?
Moments themselves are restless things
forever racing from the past
tumbling into the future
elusive to capture
Permanence fades with the rain
for we cannot hold a moment
Like a child it must move on
to greater things
becoming what it must be
The restless heart does not want it all
but it does want to feel it all
To know what it is to live each moment
as if it were our last
before our ashes are scattered to the wind

I'm standing in the queue, swede in hand
a trolley filled with representations of the person I hope to become
fresh, safe, healthy, organic
the sound of fruit and vegetables screaming for my attention
drowns out the sound of you wondering out load how it came to this
the food on my table became something much bigger than it was ever intended to be
there's no such thing as an innocent steak and peas
you casually opened my fridge door for a cursory glance
an uninvited familiarity
my inner private world
until now known only to myself and the ******* the checkout at the grocery store
when I invited you to dinner you looked at me as if I had asked you to father my children
but we had been dancing around in concentric circles of admiration
formalities slipping away over drinks for weeks
could inviting you to cross my threshold have overstepped yours?
I have offered you a seat at my table and a place in my heart
not your last supper
a sacred feast symbolizing the beginning of something more
a time when I know what you like to eat for breakfast and how you have your coffee
when you share your pleasure in your meal with me on the same fork across the table
when tastes and aromas inhabit our landscape
forming our story around the intimacy of food

Taking dinner from your litter
not a drifter seeking shelter
an organiser
sympathiser
Hero of the oppressed
the distressed
While millions wait in hunger
shipwrecked
poverty entrenched
capitalism unchecked
Does it make you wonder
if your contempt
for the dumpster diver
is justified?
Use the planet
for your plunder
it is a little ******
your appetiser
could quench the hunger
of a village over winter
Does it upset you to accept
your excuses
are inept?
The diver of the dumpster
is an enigma
a free thinker
challenging you
with counterculture
to wake from your slumber
reject
excess
redress
Food injustice

I came here on a boat
of hope
Bereft
of home
family
identity
I sought shelter
from the storm
of war
hatred
scorn
Alone on a sea
with the clothes on my back
one shoe
a love letter
she wrote
as she drew
her final breathe
Australia
land of the free
democracy
A chance to leave behind
my pain
begin again
bit I find
more of the same
A land where running from fear
is a crime
They say I leapt ahead
instead of standing
in some orderly
imaginary queue
I am punished for surviving
locked away
You believe people
will stop running to you
if you deprive them of liberty
dignity
But the greatest loss has past
the writer of the note
my other shoe
All that's left to me
is life
and that
depends on you

What all seemed so clear before
Has now, it seems, become unsure
I hate sometimes, this place I dwell
But always love it, just as well

We play it every summer
With the other people in our street
The buildup is slow
We fuss around, cleaning up
Distract ourselves with domestic chores
From the inevitability of the game
Will it be us this year?
The tension builds, as do the temperatures
We are sent emails - prepare, prepare!
Be ready for the game to begin, stay calm
I'm terrified
Every year is the same, but I'm not leaving
Just another high fire danger day

You pledged your love to me
But lived with someone else
You'd love me till eternity
Whilst loving someone else
A place for us
In time and space
But not amongst
The human race
You loved me when we met
And when we did part
A love of timeless quality
That never got a start

No airbrushing there
Lines radiate from the corner of her eyes
And mouth
Mapping
A lifetime of kissing
Weeping
Speaking
She wears her state of mind proudly
On a face
Framed by a stirling mane
Atop a body well lived
No slave to narcissism
She revels in the joys
Of self discovery
For she
Who knows herself
Content
Will never lack mystery

How long have I loved you?
One lifetime
Many
I see us
In my dreams
Drifting
In a haze of loving
The outside world
Did not disturb
Our rapture
I wake
Alone
Not sad
For I know
Tonight
You will return to me
My dreams
Another night
Of loving

I have known her in many guises
The women who have shaped me
Changed me
Moved me
It begins as beginnings do
Tentatively
Orbiting like an apogee
Peeling back disguises
Finding rhythm in friendships
Cherished like velvet
Until we're smitten
Listening
Poetic survivors
Shaping horizons
Aspiring to visions
Grand
We are honeybees
Devotees

One man and lots of women
Gathered in your kitchen
For a barbecue and luncheon
Full of banter, wit and glutton
Wrecking ***** and chat roulette
And an 80s design vignette
The food was finger licking
And the company uplifting
What congeniality
Thanks for the hospitality

An observer of life
You notice
The small native flowers
Sprouting by the roadside
The skink sun baking on the rock
At parties
You find a group in animated conversation
Hover at its edges
Nod, smile
Appearing to join in
No keeper of small talk
Watching
Taking it all in
Making a mental note
Of snippets worth bottling
A discoverer of ideas
For words to come together
Later
In a dance
Within the privacy of your own pen
Silently you turn them into
A melody
Into poetry