Dorothy Porter

'The Wattle Bird', a poem by Dorothy Porter

December 2007–January 2008, no. 297 • 01 June 2008

Until this morningI’ve been woken upby a red wattle birdflinging himselfat the glassof my half-open windowcalling throatilywith raucous cheekas he prances the woodof my balcony rail ... (read more)

'Early Morning at the Mercy' a poem by Dorothy Porter

November 2004, no. 266 • 01 November 2004

This six a.m. momentin the cool-blue coolof early morningis not eternal. ... (read more)

'Travel' a poem by Dorothy Porter

February 2009, no. 308 • 01 February 2009

Waiting on a reeking strange     railway station –then the dead-quiet but crowded     night ferry. ... (read more)

'Aeneas Remembers Domestic Bliss' a poem by Dorothy Porter

June 2008, no. 302 • 01 June 2008

We were never married, Dido.Cease weeping, let me leave and agreewe both knew real spouses. Even as the ghost of my precious wife passedthrough my clutching arms like mistI swear on my soul I could taste her. O the scorch of lost Trojan morningsin our rumpled bed with bread, figsand, yes, honey! I could taste honeyas if every bee in Troyhad made her phantom its swarming hive. Of course I will ... (read more)

'Diary' by Dorothy Porter

June–July 2002, no. 242 • 01 June 2002

It’s the silence. Even by the river, my ears are straining. It’s the silence. At this moment it’s a warmish humid silence with the grass outside lushly mesmerising the eye. Then there’s the drone of a fly. And the hum of the fridge. And down by the river at dawn, where I sat watching this morning’s mist melt over the water with the poet Judy Beveridge, there was suddenly from the far ban ... (read more)