(i)
What remains barely the weather report: sentencing labours of history
against all beginnings, the maples
leafless, the houses barely porous.
(ii)
I ride roads I am not familiar with,
a figure of speech, chrome strips
between windows. To the south,
burial mounds. Resolution
deep and simpatico. Northwards:
the lake effect, the snow plough.
(iii)
Deer go down to ... (read more)
John Kinsella
John Kinsella is the author of over forty books. His most recent publications include the novel Lucida Intervalla (UWA Publishing 2018), Open Door (UWA Publishing, 2018); On the Outskirts (UQP, 2017), and Drowning in Wheat: Selected poems (Picador, 2016). His poetry collections have won a variety of awards, including the Prime Minister's Literary Award for Poetry and the Christopher Brennan Award for Poetry. His volumes of stories include In the Shade of the Shady Tree (Ohio University Press, 2012), Crow’s Breath (Transit Lounge, 2015), and Old Growth (Transit Lounge, 2017). His volumes of criticism include Activist Poetics: Anarchy in the Avon Valley (Liverpool University Press, 2010) and Polysituatedness (Manchester University Press, 2017). He is a Fellow of Churchill College, Cambridge University, and Professor of Literature and Environment at Curtin University. With Tracy Ryan he is the co-editor of The Fremantle Press Anthology of The Western Australian Poetry (2017). He lives with his family in the Western Australian wheatbelt.
IThis place we live is termed ‘rural’or ‘countryside’ by arrangementwith or of the planters of grains,the breeders of animals forslaughter, by conservative vote.
IIBut we’re entangled among stalksof wild oats, amidst firebreaks,trying to coax that native bushback to have its say, to undothe rural we are entrenched in.
IIII always think of you when I’mtroubled by my presence – the r ... (read more)
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He polished his car to a shine, he kepta ‘clean machine’ inside and out, but downfrom ‘up north’, the red dirt would stayin the seams of doors, around the fittings.A detailing of distance. A truth unto itself.
What to do with us, having travelledso far – the access-visit ontology, a divorcedbloke’s existential crisis. Kids aren’t goingto live on feelings alone for an afternoon,they ... (read more)
When Ishmael escaped from the closed Bibleon the dresser with family names that were
only tangentially yours, you looked to the emergencysite for inclemency and found fire was rapidly
approaching via dire easterlies that actually start from the southand over the stretch of time just inside a zone sharply
bend west to gather inner heat, saying, I love as muchas your weight of extracted moisture, ... (read more)
Hailstones in misshapen formation pound on roof corrugations,distorted in scrying before reaching their target,feathers and leaves stripped, birds and trees in transition.
To taste the fracture when air pressure is shaken and unshaken,and lightning brings its personalised thunder close to a house in retreat,hailstones misshapen in formation pound on the roof’s corrugations.
What can you porten ... (read more)
I’d ask you to reappear from behind the wet blanket, Sun, But the ozone has been eaten by refrigerants &nbs ... (read more)
I am a dickhead in ways I thought I wasn’tI am a dickhead in ways people who call me a dickhead can’t imagineI am a dickhead in ways people who call me a dickhead can imagineI am a dickhead with residues and hangovers of misapplications of beliefsI am a dickhead whose interior was an adequate backdrop for exterior worldsI am a dickhead who has tried to leap synaptic gaps to make conversationI ... (read more)
Grasshopper on the window, the flyscreen, and stepping outinto the beige heat, over us. Tangled in our hair, hooked to our backs.
Grasshopper, cod wisdom. Grasshopper contraband on the eye-out for plagues. The Australian Plague Locust and its tendency
to shift character when gathered together. In worship. In parliament.O phase polyphenism, in which morphology and social disposition
shift. And t ... (read more)