Tag Archives: poetry

Glitch Paper Napkin

An edited fragment from a larger fractal themed piece that I wrote back in 2011, mixed down using Audacity onto what I’m tentatively calling a Glitch Paper Napkin. The napkin is immune to glitching in Wordpad when clean, but I can introduce small vulnerabilities if the paper is not loaded in straight. There are plenty of angles left for me to study the effects of on my Glitch Paper Napkin without making things complicated by scribbling on it, but there’s an endless supply of it…
 

Glitch Paper Napkin poem

Glitch Paper Napkin poem


Sydney to Ceduna return – Photo Essay (Part 13)

   Memories are ribbons
   of Cape Barren Geese
   in a noon seabreeze
   south of Port Neill
   sometimes
 

Ribbon of Cape Barren Geese

Ribbon of Cape Barren Geese


 
   silhouette streaming
   near midnight beneath
   a moon growing over
   Yandinga Gorge
   sometimes.
 
Cape Barren Geese with a Gawler Ranges Midnight Moon

Cape Barren Geese with a Gawler Ranges Midnight Moon


 
   If it’s the first time
   you’ve seen Cape Barren Geese
   memories are Emus
   that look out of place
   once or twice
 
Emus? That can't be right.

Emus? That can’t be right.


 
   until you approach
   and they strip the beach
   down to just you
   sand, dunes, and ribbons
   sometimes
 
Cape Barren Geese 2
 
   and a persistence
   of vision that swings
   like a pendulum
   some say obsession
   sometimes.
 
Cape Barren Geese on Hex Canvas

Cape Barren Geese on Hex Canvas


 


r ú è?

r ú è?
ø…
º.

þåt
½¿?
<½.     ../ þåt þån which 0 > can _ º.
\ þåt `.

go ¯ N Õ`
/ & I ® =.

®=?!
Y for Your { & } not = @ ®§! My ¦.
Your © will — Ô!

Dialogue written mostly with ANSI characters. Translation to speech provided by Google Translate.

Cut and paste the text into Google Translate – English to English – and press the speaker button, or if that doesn’t work for some reason I’ve put a recording up at my podbean. Enjoy!

http://maekitso.podbean.com/e/r-u-e/


Night Like an Empire Falls

My contribution to Water Under the Bridge: IPM2015 has been published today at Bonnie McClellan’s Weblog

Night Like an Empire Falls.

The poetry on offer during this International Poetry Month is, as always, of a very high standard and I’m thrilled to be taking part.

Many thanks to Bonnie McClellan.


Sydney to Ceduna return – Photo Essay (Part 6)

Mount Lofty Ranges

Mount Lofty Ranges


 
It came to me in a dream. I was parked on a verge north from Burra by the Barrier Hwy, 20 km south of Hallet. The shadows of low cumulus clouds were dreamily drifting over the wind turbine-lined slopes of the Mount Lofty Ranges; the soft yellow glow of an immense wheat field backscattering off the dusty metallic grey paint of Vincent. I was genuinely happy, and had an inexplicable craving for Weet-Bix with butter and vegemite. I brought my journal out, and used Vincent’s boot to write a poem on.
 
   Like Starry Sparklers over the Mount Lofty Ranges,
   so are the windswept powers of turbines
   (insignia of Mitsubishi, in my informed fancy).
 
While my thoughts moved back and forth between the images in search of the next part, the apparition of a shingleback lizard appeared to me. I recognised it from the day before. It poked a dry gumnut flower with its blue tongue. “Like the exuviae of our nymphal instars, so are the fields of pinkish-brown cross-stitched with yellow dwarf thread,” he grinned, widely.
 
Happy looking shingleback

Happy looking shingleback


 
I stared a little disbelievingly out at him. “You shed your skin in pieces,” I said. “It’s not an exoskeleton that you can just wriggle out of.”
 
Without another word the shingleback turned, and toddled off into the wheat field.
 
Toddling off shingleback

Toddling off shingleback


an haiga

 raster hinoki
 rectangle ’round globose cones:
    lossy compression
 

Hinoki Cypress

Hinoki Cypress


Interrupted ballad

In a state of being cushioned, with a paper plate of cheesecake
and a cardboard cup of coffee at a cafe,
from a higgle-piggled parent-pulling pandemonium
of supermarket checkout prams and trolleys,

while endeavouring to pen a ballad set within the landscape
of a bustling shopping plaza in the burbs.
Am I the only person here who’d rather down a schooner
at the RSL and rack a clutch of billiards?