Nieuw Holland

Fields of megafauna, legends in our eyes. Beneath a confected dune, I spilled some water from a glass jar and watched as it disappeared into yesterday. We pitched a tent on the beach, listened to the dingo howls, and prayed for rescue. The locals don't seem to mind us being here, though we are invisible to them, of their past. The animals' eyes glow softly in amber, rare mosquitoes frozen in space. As time washes our shorelines away, we struggle with this eternal fear of obsolescence. We'll never know what it was like before we arrived; and they, after we have gone.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Abendland reviewed online etc ...

Image
My chapbook Abendland (pictured left, details ) has been reviewed by Philly poet Adam Fieled on his excellent blog. Check out the review here . As far as I can tell, this is the first time my work has ever been reviewed, anywhere. I only have a couple of copies of the book left, but I hope to make an announcement soon as to a possible re-release, along the lines of Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted . For those who don't have a clue what I'm talking about, Pavement's debut full length album circulated unofficially as a cassette tape in the early 1990s, with the consequence that it was well known "underground" before being released, erm, "overground". So, if you'd like to possess a copy of the original chapbook, and would like to be able to tell your grandkids that you got in there first, before the Abendland project went mainstream, contact me via email . Like, today. In other spellbinding news, sure to get Stung seething, I've finally bitten
Read more

Before ... and ... after!

Image
I got my haircut just before leaving Australia on July 1 and, until last week, hadn't had it cut since. Okay, so it's only been four months but as you can hopefully see from the image above it was developing nicely into a Steve Winwood style, with a touch of bogan at the back. Normally I keep it pretty short however and the major question was whether I would be able to stop myself from getting it cut before returning to Australia, presumably looking a little more like Tom Hanks in Castaway . I needn't have troubled myself worrying about it. Last Thursday night I got a call from an American friend named Sean, with whom I share quite a few musical tastes, and with whom I had some great conversations that night in the suitably-named Ho Bar in Hongdae, including one where we assigned 1970s bands to colours of the rainbow. Six shots of tequila, five beers and two gin and tonics later, I asked him whether he had a pair of clippers. Answering in the affirmative, he led me ba
Read more

Funeral for Democracy

Summer revolution, flowers in your Air. Nike sweatshops. You are here: be there. For Pericles' printable version of our democracy has died. Come & join the funeral, bring a Lotus. Or your own war dead. We have shredded our constitution like ham. I don't take the peace movement seriously. Then again as a National Security Anal(yst) I might be wrong & so I tell it like it used to be, with a cortege of (Shit, the Fourth Reich's appearing at the following venues! A page has been torn from our torso, I swing high my own private drive. Democracy�s dead. The hand brake's �
Read more