Six Days to the Gallows

Six Days to the Gallows On the first day I was walking and you marvelled at my feet. Every step I took was a miracle, tiny but complete. I raced around the bedroom and the air was filled with noise, Twenty-eight pounds of sunshine wrapped up in a smiling boy. On the second day I was talking and the words…

On your marks

I had hoped not to end up writing about the pandemic, but like the damn thing itself, it has become unavoidable. Apart from those whose occupations entail meeting the Coronavirus head on, life is being lived in low gear and in a minor key. We are in a permanent state of crouch, feeling the weight of shared anxiety and uncertainty,…

The Institution, or Sometimes You Don’t Know You’re Being Held

The Institution, or Sometimes You Don’t Know You’re Being Held It is a symbiosis, this thing. This mad, lifelong, love affair that has raged across the shores of time; that has as often been tempest as drought. That has somehow kept out elements of undoing, of easy leaving. A force that has not been quelled, but has given and shared…

The Return

We stand on the old stone bridge looking down at the river flowing from the mountains to the sea. The water is brilliantly clear, gushing and bubbling over the rocks and pebbles and silt with effortless onward movement. We stare patiently at the darker water that pools by either riverbank under the shade of the overhanging trees, hoping that we…

Closer

Closer When will it be that she sees the shock of the old? When will she stop in her tracks, stop her breath, and take charge of my feelings, so that I’m not hurt by more than the passing of time? No time soon.   She marauds over me like terrain to be conquered. My arms are limbs to swing…

Convince us!

“Every man who says frankly and fully what he thinks is so far doing a public service. We should be grateful to him for attacking most unsparingly our most cherished opinions.” – John Stuart Mill, On Liberty   Does anybody stand for anything anymore? Or more accurately, does anybody stand for something that might be recognised as a moral vision…

I Can Dance, But I Don’t Want To

Shuffle. Shimmy. Shake. The external is merely a dance. It’s the dance we do to get off the dance floor. You know the one – you have to get to a point on the other side of the room, but the dance floor full of maniacally enthused glitterbugs is unavoidably en route, and because you live in the real world…

In it together

The air is polluted and it is unsafe to be outside. What looks like early morning mist is in fact a deathly haze of smoke blown west from the bushfire-ravaged eastern state. I have foregone my morning swim and cycle to work in deference to the ominous atmosphere that has dropped an unloving cloud of murk over the entire city.…

Like the Lights

This year’s Christmas story attempts to capture something of the season’s raised stakes. I hope you enjoy. Like the Lights The younger two jumped up and down at the window with giddy shrieks of excitement, announcing his arrival. She looked out over their heads and watched him step out of a taxi. He spoke briefly to the driver and then…

A Death in Melbourne, Southeast

A Death in Melbourne, Southeast Overwhelmed, Not all at once, But gradually. Its slow demise Borne witness By two thousand eyes. Once aloft With gleaming prow Breasting life’s currents. Oh! The fulgor Of union’s promise! Now slumped And despondent While being eaten From within. Stolen upon With practiced Indifference, Listing ever closer To bed. Pathetic, Wounded, And unloved – Where…