Brunswick. January. 35 Degrees

Behind each eyelid,
a mirage,
having entered
a dark room from light
ripple from tar to sky
illusion of narrowness
up ahead
on this road of hookah cafes,
gaudy bridal shops,
and gilded Italian bedheads

(2004)

The Great Maps of the World as Trodden by Foot

I wonder how many centuries of feeling are held in the grooves of the foot?
There once was a man who hadn’t worn shoes for seven years.
He trekked over mountains, and treaded desert powder
with the familiarity of an old friend,
the walking paths etched in his hardened skin.

I too must circumnavigate the earth.
I’ll unbuckle my shoes and walk barefoot
down the narrow city laneways
past the stencils of political tricksters,
navigating the labyrinths
where the concrete bumps and buckles
from the escaped roots of trees.
The hard, cool bluestone under my soles,
the Weeping Lovegrass tickling my toes.

Talus: the uppermost foot bone forming the ankle joint
with the tibia and fibula.

Calcaneus: the largest foot bone, forming the heel.
Formally known as the calcaneum or os calcis.

Navicular, sesamoid and cuboid bones: the first a little ship
navigating the footpaths of the world,
The second a small seed stuck between toes,
the third a cube: origin unknown.

Phalanges: the bones of the toes, two for the great toe
and three for the others.

They help connect the foot to the ground and the leg to the foot.
I must tread the earth carefully.
Walk barefoot.

Published in Invisible City.
Issue 5 Mapping. 9-10.
http://www.invisiblecity.org
and with Tom Civil and Sherry Mclean
in Neopoetry: Poetry/Audio/Video AV Compilation,
curated by Rebecca Canon, 2004. 

(2004)

Violet

She sat on the tram dressed in purple,
a colour so luscious I wanted to bite into
her flesh, blood-plum sweet.
Her hair was crimson, short and boyish.
Her name was Violet.

When we chatted,
she told me
she had a
fascination for maps,
that cartography was
her passion,
and when left alone
she would trace her
veins with ink.
The maps of the forever
she called them.
Leading everywhere and nowhere.

I wanted to tell
her about my day,
about the insignificance
of it all
but she left so quickly

   the scent of lavender.

Published in the zines Violet  and Small Poems Like Bird Feet.

 

 

It is a privilege to have a number of poems appear in the anthology A Slow Combusting Hymn: Poetry From and About Newcastle and the Hunter Region, edited by Kit Kelen and Jean Kent.

A Slow Combusting Hymn features the work of poets such as Kim Cheng Boey, Ivy Ireland, Karina Quinn, Christopher Pollnitz, Mark Tredinnick, Les Murray, Lucy Dougan and many, many more.

A Slow Combusting Hymn is a poetic map of Newcastle and the Hunter Valley. It contains poems from 64 poets who currently live in the region or who have strong local connections. The book is published by ASM and Cerberus Press and its production and launch have been supported by the Hunter Writers Centre.

For those of you in Newcastle, the anthology will be launched this Saturday 9th August by Rosemarie Milsom at 10.30am at The Lovett Gallery, City Library, Laman St, Newcastle.