POETRY
EDITH SPEERS
Alone Among Others
a nothing special van gogh
a self-portrait
one of many you’d flick past in an art book
but here he is staring into your eyes
with mismatched eyes
one too bright too blue too piercing
too sharply focused outward at you
at what you’re wearing
at the room
a beam of blue awareness peering
through a hole in time
and the other eye looking inward at the pain the past
and all that was and all that might have been
a gentle benediction is that wise green eye
it is almost serene in the bony hungry haunted
never handsome never cherished face
of a man who did not hesitate
who gave everything and got nothing
gazing out at you and your world from beneath
the brim of a straw hat
through the mirror that became a window
with a view of the future he faced without fear
one eye cool green and dreamy
and the other eye blue and hot and clear
as the sky behind him
only hinted at by flying flakes of blue
and everywhere showing through is the raw canvas
as though he and straw hat and all are hovering
like a vision seen through a glass dimly
all except the eyes that find yours
and do not let go
EDITH SPEERS was born in Canada and migrated to Australia in 1974. Her poetry has wonmany awards and has been published in major literary journals and anthologies during thepast twenty-four years. Two books of her poetry have been published, the most recent beingFour Quarters(Esperance, 2001).
JOHN KINSELLA
Fog Topography
A red-capped robin
trilled through morning fog
so thick sunset and sunrise
reversed horizons,
or light filtered up
from the soil.
It’s a few months
until the wurra bush
flowers – were it open now
its sprung cage would curl
and lash itself pink,
sparking on its less
than robust gantry –
a spring-summer flowering
rushed ahead of time
by the steady
winter sunlight.
In loss of position
we reform, resettle – sound dampened,
though still sharpening
to identify red-capped robin,
or the rubbery compression
of leaf-litter
by passing fox.
Outside the grip of fog,
the sun ebullient –
following its topography,
its squeezing into
abandoned burrows
of rainbow honey-eaters,
the opening of all ground
to its gaseous state,
its mordant
quibble.
JOHN KINSELLA's most recent book of poetry is The New Arcadia (FACP and WW Norton, 2005). Manchester University Press will publish his collection of essays on poetics this year.
DAVID LUMSDEN
Shot Tourists Do Not Make the Headlines Anymmore
a battle-hardened culture
its crumbling courtyards
campus bombings, academic cartels:
a collective balding envelops European Theory . . .
the loss of human measure
so many murderous marches
through a graffiti-covered centurya dirty hallway plunged
in history gone haywire
insurgent hundreds set
roadblocks to pent-up ports
slogan shops in muddy districts vanish
civil trouble in shutdown cities
the old road to a clifftopthe mood of chronic despair
has its impact on rural futility
oil pipelines over the ridge
solving peso politics
this is cigarette territory
shell-shocked students tagged with modern tolerance
the rebel faculty flag
flapping in holiday air
DAVID LUMSDEN works as a software designer. He is currently living in Warsaw. His poetry hasappeared in literary journals in the US and the UK, as well as in Australia.
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