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Poems
Over the past four decades, my poetry has been published in a range of Australian and international journals and anthologies. Since 2000 I’ve also posted hundreds of poems on this site, including many sonnets and search poems, as well as numerous poems that didn’t make it into chapbooks such as Abendland and Morgenland. For a while I ceased posting poems here, choosing instead to distribute them via my poem of the week newsletter. Then I stopped doing that, too. Every now and then I post a new poem … although not as often as I’d like.
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‘May.be’ 4
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2 min read
Maar in zijn rand verbrak de zee in reven—Herman Gorter, ‘Mei’ but the sea crumbled at its edges like reef cakesendless as heartbeat bombs repeating overheadyellow bees (or were they drones? blue clouds?thousands of them, mouthing stuff about warsthe sweaty children’s armpits in Ukraine (sameas here: lipsticked girls lined up at a kermis, theirnecklaces made…
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‘Nagasaki crows’ redux
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6 min read
On 9 August 1945, US forces detonated a second atomic bomb over Japan, destroying the city of Nagasaki, killing around eighty-thousand people and injuring many more. The first bomb, which had levelled Hiroshima three days earlier, was not sufficient to prompt Japan to capitulate. Six days after the destruction of Nagasaki, however, and following Russia’s…
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‘May.be’ 3
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1 min read
Blauw dreef de zee . . .—Herman Gorter, ‘Mei’ we were falling into blue while the sunshine made waterwe were floating like hairdressers with our golden combsthrough cotton-wool waves whose old sound washed ussoothing us with vaseline and a smell like heavy nappiesbut it was too cold to swim in Ameland’s browning surfso we walked…
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‘May.be’ 2
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1 min read
Zóó . . .–Herman Gorter, ‘Mei’ this sound, just like the song we used to sing togetherI will read it for you when we get back from forever—if you polished my language or buttered up my accentI would teach your left eye to wink when you laugh . . .(hihi lol but whose hand was…
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‘May.be’ 1
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2 min read
Een nieuwe lente en een nieuw geluid . . .–Herman Gorter, ‘Mei’ when spring sounds brand-new it makes novels feel oldto write a poem that mimics a day, or a season’s whistle(that we heard on the building site, some summer nightin a crumbling city, its canals long gone or covered overif we ever really lived…
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Executive Hoarder
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1 min read
NSFW: fecal (subject) matter