As side 3 plays, First Bite spins to a close. Massive thanks to Julie, Cindy and Ashley for taking the leap with me… am already excited about the shape our next project may take.
[photograph by Cindy Keong]
last piece of the puzzle
her body nestled
against mine
CK
*
bare foot in the kitchen
her teeth chatter la cucaracha
JB
*
the record spins
gathering blues
at dawn
GN
*
warmth kicks in
the womb
AM
*
first buds
appear under
her t-shirt
CK
*
lips on the wine glass
blooming red
JB
Filed under poetry
[photograph by Cindy Keong]
nightfall
grandfather’s stories flicker
in the flames
GN
*
we observe the animal
spines unusually fluid
AM
*
the dam
in full bloom
he feels no pulse
CK
*
sunburnt skin and sweat
beneath him
JB
*
not wanting
to show my heart
this first morning
GN
*
she tries too hard
with bar stool French
AM
*
on the second bottle
a surge
of waves
CK
*
a long walk home
breathing steam into her v neck
JB
*
still cold —
the moon lengthens
my stride
GN
*
a child could measure
and die, like the leaves
AM
Filed under poetry
While I have been leading the summer ginko group through their marvellous Snake Weather, I have also been taking part in our Autumn collaborative poem, this time with Ashley Martin, Cindy Keong and Julie Beveridge. To mix things up a little, we decided to write a Triparshva. Enjoy this first bite…
[photograph by Cindy Keong]
the first bite
of autumn
red apples
CK
*
seasoning the pie
it’s raining again
JB
*
a koel calls
we slip into
each other
GN
*
armed with pillows
I like your shadow
AM
*
hide and seek
the moon wears
a golden halo
CK
*
in keeping with tradition
we pray hand in hand
JB
Filed under poetry
With this sixth part of our renga, ‘The Crow’ has come to an end. It has been a thrill as always working with Ashley and Cindy; already we are planning an Autumn renga, so watch this space over the coming weeks. For now, enjoy the final flight of The Crow.
[photograph by Cindy Keong]
tissues pile up
every branch
stripped bare
*
face to face
with the wind
*
genealogy is all
you sleep in
a rented suit
*
unworn for years
this memory
*
clouds pass
the confused heads
of sunflowers
*
paperboy on your starlit route
the dark turning into birds
Filed under poetry
[photograph by Cindy Keong]
*
funeral procession
seeing more
of my mother
*
flamenco
with his ghost
*
mist rises
the sound of our
shadows touching
*
arm to arm
my son’s first steps
*
at the border
a crooked finger
fear of frost
*
letter from home
cracked on the fold line
Filed under poetry
[photograph by Cindy Keong]
*
drunk again
the blush of
bougainvillea
*
that we might have
bigger fires
*
Australian quality
stainless steel legs
on the lawn swan
*
so deceptive
the neighbour’s manicured nails
*
deaccelerate
as a gymnast slips
wetly off the bar
*
sun warmed
the orphaned nestling
Filed under poetry
[photograph by Ashley Martin]
*
milky saucer
cat’s got
your ebbing tongue
*
again…
the pond turns silver
*
rear view mirror
leaving town
at the lights
*
half a palace you bragged
our names in glyph
*
looking around
to ensure no one sees -
naked ladies
*
the gardener’s
toothless grin
Filed under poetry
[photograph by Cindy Keong]
*
he sets back his watch
one hour
to save himself
*
three hairs on the pillow
give her away
*
one night stand
the weeds in the garden
nameless
*
city workers
the sisters will not reconcile
*
at the altar
the complete absence
of prayer
*
an act of defiance
her perfume lingers
Filed under poetry
Ashley, Cindy and I have teamed up again to write a renga to celebrate each of the seasons in 2013. And already the excitement is building between us! We are also hatching some other exciting plans at present, so stay tuned. For now, the first six links in our summer renga, ‘the crow’.
[photograph by Cindy Keong]
*
the crow
has a song for it
summer heat
*
the drip, drip
of humidity
*
they gave up
because of the highway
silverfish, so soft bodied
*
on the front stairs
nothing but your shoes
*
autumn moon
your side of the bed
empty
*
shoppers notice lights
already turned on
Filed under poetry, poetry & publishing
Although Ashley, Cindy and I have flicked the switch on the Friday Night Lights Project, we are already looking at ways to take the project beyond the realm of this blog and into other spaces. Some exciting conversations are underway, one of which involves putting together a limited edition print collection of the work. That’s where you can help us…
We don’t envisage publishing every poem and photo; we want it to look and feel like a ‘curated body of work’. So we are now asking people to share their ’20 favourites’ from the project to help us make a final decision.
To tell us about the 20 weeks that burn brightest, email me at geenunn(at)yahoo.com.au or leave a comment below.
Here are the links to each of the weeks so you can take a trip back into the light:
Week #1 Week #11 Week #21 Week #31 Week #41
Week #2 Week #12 Week #22 Week #32 Week #42
Week #3 Week #13 Week #23 Week #33 Week #43
Week #4 Week #14 Week #24 Week #34 Week #44
Week #5 Week #15 Week #25 Week #35 Week #45
Week #6 Week #16 Week #26 Week #36 Week #46
Week #7 Week #17 Week #27 Week #37 Week #47
Week #8 Week #18 Week #28 Week #38 Week #48
Week #9 Week #19 Week #29 Week #39 Week #49
Week #10 Week #20 Week #30 Week #40 Week #50
**********
You will notice that there is no link for Week #32… well that would be because we actually miscounted! So excitedly we got to work. Here’s the results…
**********
Time to get serious
like the cat tracking birds
in the garden
bulbs will have to be forced
will have to be: that tense
is the future
colonist who kisses the ground
I am en route to the commissioning
of new ghosts
AM
**********
CK
**********
Midnight on the jetty
more luminous than squid:
the sky so full of unidentified
thoughts, my mind starlit
watching the changing shape of
a herring school, the taste of salt
in every breath.
I lift the net and slump
its weight across my shoulder:
this type of hunt, this thief-
in-the-night wanting, slips
if slipping could be sudden
from fingertips, into water.
A whirl of silver scales
panic in the shape of their bodies:
and I see in the slowness
of my retrieve, how the eyes
fill with endless stars
and how the sky does not seem
to care or notice.
GN
Filed under discussions, poetry, poetry & publishing
