Changel altar candle's nude ivory tear rivulets congeal into
Changel altar candle's nude ivory tear rivulets congeal into
Fame shines out from all and the chosen
awe - sorted from ores from stones silences
hush her heart oh transient winepress
of beings infinite ferment
Never fails her voice of dust
should divine paradigm grab her
all becomes vineyard all goes to grape
ripened her sensory South
nor in the mouldy vault of kings
her flattery suffers to lie torment
or that a shadow falls from the Godly on high
she is one of the remaining messengers
who far from the gates of the dead
holds bowls with honourable fruit
30-31st August 2012
I am looking at an Art Gallery with parquetry floor, only the walls are transparent like an Aquarium. There is a slow dance going on. The dancers are each going at their own pace whirling up golden flakes of dust in the slanting light. Footprints remain in this golden dust. David is floating in the foetal position from one half of the space into the other. He has a beatific smile on his face. I remember thinking to myself that I am grateful to him for showing me this slow, patient dance- seemingly random, but meaningful in its own way. The camera zooms out and I see a 360sweep of the 'Aquarium'. (David was an Aquarius)
Have been working next door to SeaLife Sydney Aquarium for the last 4 years
Down by the River
Heat - the Leviathan out-breath of a dying beast heaped in our breasts
making movement sluggish.
By the tea coloured waters
we stripped off.
Returned winter-skinned relatives
ginger, delicate and reticent
white pruned finger tips
dipping in delicately nervous to
break the silence
pierce the meniscus
let alone dive in.
You never step in
to the same river twice.
Golden tea stained ripples
on the sandy riverbed.
Swimmer’s shadow shafts corona.
Caustics playing concentric tag
radiating from every flicker.
The recently departed
fly hook fisher.
Wading in fingers dipping left right
kneeling appreciatively before
immersed dogs on their haunches
muscular fur dripping with diamonds.
Happy pup splashing past with a human smile on his goddy nosed face.
Giddy kids hitching rides in inflatable boats.
suckling on the riverbank.
Warm and cool currents.
Unexpected submerged depths
and shallows afloat.
Whole trees lurking snagging in the
vegemite tea water
reflecting the scudding clouds
piling up and grumbling.
"I'm afraid of lightning" my cousin murmurs.
Cauliflower edges against slate and
purple etched sky.
Down it comes
drop garnet-paper stars
winking in and out of existence
on the river's sleek fish hide.
Goosebumps quantum leap
ellipses eclipsing ellipses.
What grade of wet and dry
Determined by rash drops intensity.
Plumes rebound as clarity ribbons from each impact.
Cascading rhythm in and out of phase
with cicada's refrain.
In the gloaming
she-oak’s bursts of pollen
spew and sprinkle curtains of smoke
resting and bobbing in
sheets on water's skin.
"Let the Land sell itself!" I reply.
Grateful of the awning
we shelter boat people
returning sand shore between our toes.
Stow in 4wheel drives
talk of bindi eyes and aromatic crunchiness
of South Australia
in the nostrils.
The dew in diamond diadems
lacing edges of each blade of grass
the cool sweet wetness arching feet and encircling between toes
more valuable than any
For Cerys and Lochlain Easton
In memory of
my Uncle Russel Morgan
Barbara Wulff 21st January 2016
Tears tearing down
Two tear ducks landed on my pond
Salty commas are my nostrils
in the rear view mirror
the shape of Absence
Missing my two tadpoles
Down in the dumpster
Spinning in the surf
Sufi sadgrains grind the cornea
Standing on the jetty
ashes jettisoned in lumps
veils of wafting mystery
Sheets of fine particles hang forever in air
curtains to our tragedy
Where has that lad gone
with his knapsack on?
Forever beyond our reach
on some foreign beach
Spinning in the surf
sandgrains whirl and tumble
can't breathe and lumpy dumplings
weigh heavy on the chest
Force flings you at a sandbar and you rise up shining
Breath is sharp and sudden
intake a gasping golden
Pharao dragonfly hatchling
This diamond day
far beyond a suppurating tattoo
pain is held to ransom
Grief itself must yield
to a higher truth
This life is ruthless
can't give otherwise
Compassion is the bank account
wellspring that never dries
Its water may taste salty
but what better proof?
When you stand on earth
no end to the roof
Today I went to the cobbler
to mend my broken heart
Pink-hair with a red thread
gave me back my worth
breath and courage to string my worry beads on
How could you misunderstand me? You my Love.
At Circular Quay the Life ring savours
the finger whorl your touch screen traces
Through the ripple finger-tip triggers
aureole concentric Billabong places
Desert-dot camp-sites domino the Milky-Way
Drone digeridoo clap stix mark the spot
Imprint rhythm of magnetic field lines
stand hairy to attention round Mecca’s box
Corkscrew twist in ancestral eyebrows
Boundless mind hemmed-in by barbed-wire
Steel wool rusts the burning bush
but the strange sight is unburnt by fire
While Prophetic voices flow from wand-tapped sources
flame – burst crowns leap the synaptic gap
Domino cascade fireballs race uphill
Threadbare neurons crackle and snap
Licking leaf edges incandescent rhyming
Sap runs down a gum tree’s tears
In early morning innocence the hypertext hymen
red and backlit as a choir-boys ears
in front of a stained glass altar
On my knees I beg to bridge the semantic trap
Dusk folds dusty moth wings and I falter
On the ground a blue-tongued lizard
hides to peel his stocking skin inside a tap
Flat- Ear Society’s fly web sticky page
from tree spin top to tree
the flipping dominoes explode in orange rage
JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN!
So frustrated in the back seat of the family car
I CANT WRITE A PAGE!
I had to bite her on the ankle
The cob-webbed rear-view mirror
shows clearly even at my age
The Dreamtime’s reclining figure-eight
has an X cross in the middle
Try as I might to expiate the hate
concentration rings spread out from suffering’s riddle
Rome can be forgotten any date
now understanding Neros need to fiddle
Give us this day our daily bread
Vegemite noodles ooze through too small holes in a cracker
An open cut mine spiral helixes in my head
The fireballs jump the synaptic chasm
Commuters muted by white sperm ear buds
the worm turns on a fish hook’s spasm
Why do they breakfast at the Y?
while their forked-tongued cables vie
at their voicebox junctions with the knot of a Windsor tie
Music pollinates their ear-conch stamens
and fills them to the brim with a white-hot lie
If I had one last word to utter
it would be to grind your nuts to butter
and spread your legs instead
of so much tedious lunchbox bread
No skirting around the too hot porridge
but plunge your nose right in
to Goldilock’s Nanna’s too rich mauve
layered petticoats origin
A rose by any other name
Dew would smell as heady
A rose arise and feel again no shame
The cycle spiraled out already
After the swathe of white-hot rage
The grey ash and choke burnt fumes
After the first raindrops of tearful forgiveness
rebounds the velvet ash in plumes
Purple a new green shoot
Antenna tentative and vulnerable
sends down its hairy root
and holds up its umbrella
Above valleys and crests strung-in-line wimples
the starting blocks spaced evenly beneath
infinity uprighted number 8 digits lock-jaw unbiased potential
The amphibian carnivore lurks smiling teeth
The ancient MUNCHARAMATHON gliding bow-wave dimples
The grid of tiles stippled expectant feet
Breathe steady be ready
The lapping water-line still and unperturbed
Kids lined up knocked-kneed and shivering nipples
Blue zinc-lipped i-computer-time freeze
their south poles iron filing gleam fields trepidation
neon-reflected concentric the blue surface breeze
Press studs of radiating desert dot campsites ripple
both bare and be-lycraed trying not to sneeze
GO MACKELLAR GO
Star startled aorta at sudden retort
nearly forgot to swim
so syphon squid backwards
of starting gun’s report
spiraling arms churn skywards galactic
The lane dividers helix
DNA dig-deep backstroke adjusting the pillow
churning clouds slice mirrored humiliation defeat
Drop-fall blinding the eyes fluctuation
dial-tone adds tears to lacrymous faith
parents hulking the grandstand and egg-on
the gene pool and spoon race
as MY child struggles to see palpitation
who is catching up with his bullet head not streamlined sheath
agonise over mood oscillation
Lifesaver cap TIGER MUM helicopter earth
cheering to despair vascillation
Gotta taste it fully:
Pariah ostracized, excluded misunderstood or deluded till death
Re-born each stroke good-for-you roughage
gut-traction peristalsis backstroke superior
fluctuate hubbub whirlpool and twitch
writhe wriggle squirm bicker bubble and pitch
moving forwards but looking to sky and back
No time to lament loss of Dreamtime
of red desert Interior
floodwaters swooshing out the back door fists
of Motel check-in check-out
At least with all this rain we can forget about sunscreen
and drastic measures taken with nylon ziplocked wrists
GO NOLAN GO
My son comes third GOOD BUOY!
A green plastic token pushed onto his palm
Man does not live by bread alone
On the train the commuters come and go
The finger whorl touches the membrane Michelangelo
The whorl between the worlds
Adam and his DogGodDog
GO STURT GO
The Flat Ear society Phone ear kiss
Ear buds pollinate reflective meniscus
scrolling, stirring velveteen dust
a vortex of ghosts compact discus
and absent business partners
Planning future deals with no down-time at all
not even in your dreams they missed-us
Reality a perforated colander
pierced and leaking like St Sebastian
from so many arrow entries
Sleepwalking the red herring on a leash
takes you off the scent sentries
Think or Thwim
GO TRUGANINI GO
Sharks devouring their siblings
in their mother’s womb
while real Estate agents speculate
and cuckoos push them from the nest
because there just aint enough room
Octopus mother glues her eggs
to the ceiling of her cave invests
then fades to grey
laying down a snackrifice
to her future babies
The lane markers form a cross
At what price?
Thwim or Think
The main thing is not to sink
Returning to the same shore
each and every year
a fine tradition
like so much flotsam and jetsam
a cracked and weather-beaten thong
the inflatable throng
picnic tables, barbeques
Men walking on water on their surfboards oar
through reeds stalk grace of faith less sure
Baptised by coffee murk Eau de Diesel
with beer scum awe
and fettuccini hot and cold currents
white fingertips prune
and seaweed garnish
pale transparent beer guts
vie with rash vests garish
Men sane, named Shane, without shame jaw
With no-one to blame
of mines sorting Tungsten and Sheelite ore
with shorn and too blonde kids
In the tinsel light
The contest is to score
the best spin
on the Southern Cross emblazoned
Slipping spinning genome helix
rebounds the Republican debate to the fore
from beneath the water surface trampoline
lurks surface tension
and squint hard to recognize relations from acquaintances
wearing skull orbit sunglasses
Glossed sun screened translucent hides
slicked over and forgotten gore
of massacres background rhyme
scars healed over time
and stolen Generation’s rhythm
bleached and breathing beach
the circular dirge
of didgeridoo’s eternal drone
beer scum tideline sore
bluebottle’s tendril bubble-flecked line
still - you mustn’t moan
There’ll be no more talk of that old war
While women shocked by talk of Clarke Kent tattoos
on the boss’s body corporate –
she looks so professional !
hides it well
under long sleeved fashions
Navel piercings shimmer and bore
drum-tight from repeated pregnancies
the artesian depths
too old for that now – too raw
hubby said so
bursts of hilarity
you cant undo History
and even Law Enforcement
needs to take a break
every now and then
that’s for sure!
The highlight of the Day:
drinking Piss submerged in water
the waist high surface sheet
forgives the kidney donor’s
fund raising selfless acts of heroism
backslapping chocolate accolades
smacking sun cream handprints
between red rimmed shoulder blades
in fireworks and speeches awards
optimism and cheers
and another few beers
returning foot soft on the hot hot tar
if you want my advice wear a visor…
On the BBQ photocopy platen
the chops and cutlets glisten
tossing and turning
in their marriage beds
man-handled by tongs
and speaking in tongues and gristle
well done on one side
pooling puddle accumulating gore
then turn over and listen to the sizzle
smug snags say: “Well Done!”
Sensitive New Age Guy
and pass the Quiche!
If you squeeze a sunscreen tube out comes sunscreen
If you squeeze a sauce nozzle out comes sauce
Same with toothpaste….
If you squeeze an artist….
what comes out?
Pressure of the workweek washed away
Redemption in the mauve sparkling distance
Children splashing with flop-ear tipped red cattle god
gene pool dog paddling ducked headed with pure ENTHUSIASM
Amber eyes definitely understanding PLAY!
The spiral helix squirt
Condensed milk squid ink in our coffee
In the flat ear society
Meniscus of mind
i-pod, my pad, lilotus
vanilla bean, ice cream, liquorice legs lick
sweet acceptance drawing water bore
from I-am-well depths
honeys our white-pruned fingertips
knowing our kids
smear sunscreen all over the floor
taking shiny snapshots
of forever happy chaos
and knowing dimpled hands self-smearing Vaseline
all over the interface
of tidy Steve Job’s screens
will never be completely organized
Venus the foam born rising hourglass
from beer scums cast-away tide line
Standing demurely in an ear gristle scallop shell
the hiss and sough assurance
waves receding and rushing the shore
an ever-ardent lover dry lips caress
Exoticism’s lure the eternal whore
Multilingualism’s curly hairs ferment
Pavlova base protein meringue
from beer foam’s cast away shame
The crinkled tide-line
dotted with bowerbird finds
sensitively drawn in sand blast glass
reflecting wet beach the i-phone screen
standing upside down
the antipodean body’s iron filings
stand upright in their own magnetic field
Once upon a time….
God asked a velvet worm astronomer to look into a kaleidoscope when he mistakenly thought he was looking through a telescope and he realised…
there sprang out a little sea star!
He ejected from an egg.
He was born a larva swimming randomly
the size of a grain of rice and part of the Planctonic solids.
on the carcass of a dead horse.
He slithered and slid over the surface of the horse and his only thought was:
His way of eating was to vomit out his stomach
and absorb the yumminess under his feet.
He didn’t know it but he grew and grew.
Soon he was the size of a golden coin
and his colour was golden too.
The pattern on his back was made up of
hundreds of tiny studs and cilia that pulsed and palpitated
like a tongue
with saltiness above and yumminess below.
His brothers and sisters were all different colours.
When he became the size of a saucer
he grew restless.
The yumminess wasn’t enough.
Soon the tastebuds on his back were hankering after something else, something more.
What was it?
He slithered and slided over the bodies of his brothers and sisters all the time – they tasted like himself – no big deal.
One night he knew.
The Moon drew him up and out.
The yearning at his centre built up to a great Bliss.
He turned inside out yet again.
This time releasing tiny beads of his deliciousness laced with lovely sauce.
He didn’t know it but his brothers and sisters too…
This pleasure seemed to go on forever
but some time afterwards the tides moved over
and the moon weaned her pregnant belly.
lapping tides spilt over drawn to her shining grace.
The sea star was spent and lonely.
His golden coat was drab and lusterless.
underneath was comfort.
As the days passed he convalesced
One day a Swordfish Samurai
And in a frenzy he lashed out at the colony
on the dead horse
that was now
only a skeleton.
The sea star felt a searing
in one of his limbs.
Then he was two.
The limb felt incomplete and so did he.
Slowly the severed limb sprouted five new star tips
and the lone stump sent out tendrils to grow new stud forests.
Yumminess unzipped DNA
as limbs crystallized from his protein lattice.
There he was looking at his reflection:
A golden sea star just like him.
even a self-portrait twin or 'Doppelgaenger'.
He kissed the meniscus of his reflection
Then he left the carcass of the horse.
He felt the yearning again
but this time he knew
even the Moon
would not be enough.
His longing outreached even her.
Luckily for him
he was picked up
by a SCUBA diving marine biologist.
Her laboratory was by the Sea
She set up his tank under the blue dome
of a Mosque.
By day she was was a cleaning lady
removing velveteen dust from CDs full of information and code
but by night
she indulged her mystic cosmologies.
She wore a winding turban of hidjab
pinned at the brow with a ruby.
The sea star asked her:
"Why do you dress like this?
What do you need to protect?
Why is your dome so full of writings and six-fold symmetry?
What do you store in your shiny compact discs?
What dust do you remove from them?
What enters the forgettory?
Can I see the difference between night and day?"
She asked him:
"How can you sprout new limbs?
How do you outwit your enemies?
What unzips from your double helix?
How do you come out of a star?
What home do you find in the planktonic solids
bobbing about in the shafts of sea light?
Why do sea shells have zig-zag scribbles on them
when a mollusk has no eyes to read?"
And she released him
To slither over the tiles of a faience floor.
He didn’t know it but his body
conformed to the pattern on the radial
His star tips tilted up in a vain attempt to tap out the rhythm of the tile edges and touch the button keyboard of the tessellations’ edges.
He couldn’t taste them.
They were cold.
But the biologist exclaimed:
“You are the most beautiful sea star ever!”
The sea star knew nothing of this.
He had grown out from a centre.
Now he was at
the periphery and the centre
at one and the same time.
Five/Six times a day they came to the Mosque
The Imam told them:
“God is Perfect.”
“There is a right way and a wrong way
The sea star clung to the ceiling
and watched them
He felt their presence as a dim
a repetition, a magnetic alignment,
but the tiles
though they affirmed his gorgeousness
in his six-fold radial firmament
He yearned to return
To the yumminess
beneath his feet.
He began to become drab again.
The biologist took pity:
“Oh chosen one- the most gorgeous of
I must return you
to your origin!”
So she unpeeled him from the ceiling.
Unzipped him like the Velcro
clinger that he was
and gently immersed him
in a plastic bag
filled with water.
She drove him back to the sea
donning her rubber and SCUBA gear.
Down she dove
dragging her bubble of bag
along with her.
She inside-outed his plastic sack
above the carcass of the horse
where his brothers and sisters
were all still writhing
slithering and sliding
over and under.
Again he tasted the
And he was happy.