Rumours of thylacines and distant barbarians

24 May 2016

Selected poems The blue deer 'The blue deer is the holder of the book of knowledge in which every person's life meaning is written.' — Toltec and if you find him will he tell you tell you all you wish to know? you have come far look at all the shoes worn words endlessly tumbled out spilt bled into the ear of night fragrances embraced many so many deaths endured you will want to know in which chapter you find yourself now that you are no longer half-way are well into that dark wood have stepped upon have crossed all the bridges comfort and progress then build each breath its citadel don't find the air futile never seek to unlearn your lessons as for transgressions how vulnerabilities surrender for no-one is esteemed atop a black mountain at midnight in the black heart of winter when the wind is brittle and oh so bitter but look you are not alone as far as eye can see if it could see so many others all the others atop their own mountains inexplicable martyrdoms no dome of faith no spire of reason to save either them or you find the potent little god holding open that book after stone in water will you dare look? after all this old story-teller antlered fibber embroiderer how many chapters will he give you? how in the end any difference from one meaning to its siblings? cousins all hoard up all your questions fling them north hurl them south into the great face that sees all suffers all yet has no mouth Poultice bark conceals the inner life tree becoming time branches making suburbs of space protected but the naked skin duned pale angry weathered canvas hair-forested or with bald poles old ridges scars disappointments oh all the opportunities missed crushed by star cyclones chained god in your chest take this poultice of words press against the wounds and cuts the lines the blemishes places kissed rest this gently on all the hurts and regrets press and press and press until all is healed time itself forgets under this caress this care and if it does so why should not you? press and press and press Perth 2016 'She seemed to have been everywhere — and even to Perth' — Louis Nowra Here in this weather-beleaguered outpost there are so many rumours thylacines panthers wagyls even that in the distant east are barbarians perhaps even those who were once thought to be a sort of solution but separating deserts might as well be galaxies and we are self-contained and even like those theoretical others have our contentments blue sky blue sea and even now the sun's great wintery eye hidden as we are however we hold our heads high perhaps would not be ashamed one day to be discovered ... Seeing the moon To see the moon to become the moon you will have to go outside leave your space-pod room knock on night's door open

ARTS AND CULTURE

Rumours of thylacines and distant barbarians

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