• All Things Conspire

    All things conspire to hold me from you –
    even my love,
    since that would mask you and unname you
    till merely woman and man we live... more »

  • Blue Arab

    The small blue Arab stallion dances on the hill
    like a glancing breaker, like a storm rearing in the sky,
    In his prick-ears,the wind, that wanderer and spy,
    sings of the dunes of Arabia, lion-coloured still.... more »

  • Bora Ring

    The song is gone; the dance
    is secret with the dancers in the earth,
    the ritual useless, and the tribal story
    lost in an alien tale.... more »

  • Bullocky

    Beside his heavy-shouldered team
    thirsty with drought and chilled with rain,
    he weathered all the striding years
    till they ran widdershins in his brain:... more »

  • Drought Year

    That time of drought the embered air
    burned to the roots of timber and grass.
    The crackling lime-scrub would not bear
    and Mooni Creek was sand that year.... more »

  • Egrets

    Once as I travelled through a quiet evening,
    I saw a pool, jet-black and mirror-still.
    Beyond, the slender paperbarks stood crowding;
    each on its own white image looked its fill,... more »

  • Failure Of Communion

    What is the space between,
    enclosing us in one
    united person, yet
    dividing each alone.... more »

  • Five Senses

    Now my five senses
    gather into a meaning
    all acts, all presences;
    and as a lily gathers... more »

  • Late Spring

    The moon drained white by day
    lifts from the hill
    where the old pear-tree fallen in storm
    springs up in blossom still.... more »

  • Legend

    The blacksmith's boy went out with a rifle
    and a black dog running behind.
    Cobwebs snatched at his feet,
    rivers hindered him,... more »

  • Lyrebirds

    Over the west side of the mountain,
    that’s lyrebird country.
    I could go down there, they say, in the early morning,
    and I’d see them, I’d hear them.... more »

  • Magpies

    Along the road the magpies walk
    with hands in pockets, left and right.
    They tilt their heads, and stroll and talk.
    In their well-fitted black and white.... more »

  • Metho Drinker

    Under the death of winter's leaves he lies
    who cried to Nothing and the terrible night
    to be his home and bread. 'O take from me
    the weight and waterfall ceaseless Time... more »

  • Naked Girl And Mirror

    This is not I. I had no body once-
    only what served my need to laugh and run
    and stare at stars and tentatively dance
    on the fringe of foam and wave and sand and sun.... more »

  • Northern River

    When summer days grow harsh
    my thoughts return to my river,
    fed by white mountain springs,
    beloved of the shy bird, the bellbird,... more »

  • Request To A Year

    If the year is meditating a suitable gift,
    I should like it to be the attitude
    of my great- great- grandmother,
    legendary devotee of the arts,... more »

  • Sonnet

    Now let the draughtsman of my eyes be done
    marking the line of petal and of hill.
    Let the long commentary of the brain
    be silent. Evening and the earth are one,... more »

  • Sonnet For Christmas

    I saw our golden years on a black gale,
    our time of love spilt in the furious dust.
    'O we are winter-caught, and we must fail,'
    said the dark dream, 'and time is overcast.'... more »

  • South Of My Days

    South of my days' circle, part of my blood's country,
    rises that tableland, high delicate outline
    of bony slopes wincing under the winter,
    low trees, blue-leaved and olive, outcropping granite-... more »

  • The Bull

    In the olive darkness of the sally-trees
    silently moved the air from night to day.
    The summer-grass was thick with honey daisies
    where he, a curled god, a red Jupiter,... more »

  • The Company Of Lovers

    We meet and part now over all the world;
    we, the lost company,
    take hands together in the night, forget
    the night in our brief happiness, silently.... more »

  • The Killer

    The day was clear as fire,
    the birds sang frail as glass,
    when thirsty I came to the creek
    and fell by its side in the grass.... more »

  • The Old Prison

    The rows of cells are unroofed,
    a flute for the wind's mouth,
    who comes with a breath of ice
    from the blue caves of the south.... more »

  • The Sisters

    In the vine-shadows on the veranda;
    under the yellow leaves, in the cooling sun,
    sit two sisters. Their slow voices run
    like little winter creeks, dwindled by frost and wind,... more »

  • The Surfer

    He thrust his joy against the weight of the sea;
    climbed through, slid under those long banks of
    foam--... more »