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Emilie Collyer, who had an awesome piece in the latest Torpedo, has a creative, thoughtful and immediate kind of blog, between the cracks

- Literary Minded

Between the cracks is an ongoing collection of moments and observations, captured in words. Designed to give pause for thought, maybe a laugh or other kind of cerebral refreshment. I hope you enjoy.

The work on here is a small sample of what I do.

Words from between the cracks.

Where sometimes you unexpectedly find fifty cents and sometimes you find whole new worlds.

 

Friday
May252012

Super moon

 

Watching Fame

the original movie, 1980

 

outside the super moon

is bright in the sky

like god left the light on

if you believe in god

 

on the Novia Scotia coast

tides are expected to rise

by more than 50%

 

I keep forgetting to buy

face products and my skin

is showing its flaws

dry and fragile

 

the moisture has been sucked away

something in me is raging

I weep or is it a sob –

time has beaten me

 

meanwhile the small stories

of ambition on the TV are the

same then as now

 

all that vicious hope

for what the future will bring

Tuesday
May082012

Ada Cambridge Poetry Award

This poem was highly commended in the recent Ada Cambridge Poetry Award as part of the Williamstown Literary Festival. It's in the anthology, along with the shortlisted and awarded biographical short stories, which you can buy at Hobsons Bay Libraries for $10 each.

Lay you down

 

For the funeral they calmed your yellow skin with make up

neat hair navy blazer silver buttons shining

 

I touched your hand   thick and heavy like a slab of fish

couldn’t think of any words to say   was that the day I picked you up?

 

seems I’ve carried you a long time now

curved shoulders   those vertebrae protruding at the top of my spine

 

Freud says I look for you in other men

dragging you around like this head bowed   it’s hard to see anything

 

night time is for resting but this bedroom is cluttered  

too many shoes   lonely earrings   tax receipts swirling in pockets of dust

 

you slip into my dreams   a puppet staring wide-eyed from a single bed  

unable to move without my help   effort to lift you drenches me in night sweat

 

once I see you happy   sitting at an outdoor café

wearing the red mohair jumper she knitted   smoking a cigarette

 

I want to leave you in this place   but don’t know how we got here

silent movie on a far away screen  grey dawn stirs  the image flickers   disappears

Wednesday
Apr112012

After a conversation with Kate

Two thoughts from people who have been through it already, about aging and dying:

Friedrich Nietzsche

"Joy in old age. The thinker or artist whose better self has fled into his works feels an almost malicious joy when he sees his body and spirit slowly broken into and destroyed by time; it is as if he werein a corner, watching a thief at work on his safe, all the while knowing that it is empty and that all his treasures have been rescued."

- Human, all too Human

 

Walt Whitman:

"All goes onward and outward ... and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier."

- Leaves of Grass

Sunday
Feb262012

What we want

 

The film is French and so the light

is blue and gold.

He chases after her and we want

him to catch her.

She is on the train and we want

her to forgive him.

He walks the streets at night

and we want him to chase her again.

The wife is up late reading

and we want her to suspect.

He arrives home and we want

him not to be discovered.

What we want is so simple.

We want love.

We want it to fail.

We want it to triumph.

We want to see pain that is not our own

that is our own.

We want them to make us cry so that

when we stop we will feel better.

The light is not as beautiful here

as it is in the French film

but it is enough to see by.



Tuesday
Jan242012

Three good things I saw at Parliament train station on a Sunday afternoon

A woman with a kind voice helped a man who had fallen over and cut his leg. She didn’t know the man.

A man picked up rubbish that wasn’t his and put it in the bin. He didn’t sigh or complain as he did it.

A girl on the train tried to keep the door open for a man who was running to get the train. She didn’t know the man.

Yay for humans!

 

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