28.1: MULLOWAY



fate of the species

poets x, y, & z at different times. we talk of stray things – x mentions Hawkesbury Country more than once, as if you can't walk through it, not without feeling an owner's 'presence'. y & i imagine who would …

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The Fire Ants Variation

Invariably described as an ecological disaster, fire ants are the evolved antithesis of market garden poets. Recently, a lyrebird's corpse was found littered with crimson pustules in bushland adjoining a continental herb patch. The ants infiltrated this land obscured in …

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The Lyrebird Variation

What is branding? The lyrebird has created this system & preaches it like a benevolent ruler, emphasising freedom of choice, speech, expression. Its plumage is made of melody, a jingle of colour shifting through all the seasons of the bush. …

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Hawkesbury Elemental

for the Hillbillies     Swamp hen, I say, before we choke & throttle over the mercury to observe sublimation at work: mangrove eclipsing to argon. The tinnie curves like an outfield. Another drag puts Fred on the floor, phosphor …

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Stuart Cooke: Conversation with the Bird Man

I came back telling them all about the landscape but he he in particular said no I don't agree the air is clearer the clouds more discernable but the rosellas I cried they sung like madmen on high speed dubbing …

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Stuart Cooke: Swansea Foreshore

We caught a finely spun flight of aluminium silk through the slow Swansea light. Sunset dredged copper, dwindled histories over mangrove forests; we flew over metal mist while seeping, seeping up from the water grey prisms frayed into salt-fine arms …

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Greg McLaren: Robert Adamson in The Valley of Gwangi

There are terrible reptiles we never quite catch with our puny lassoes We leave camp in the morning disguised as animals – Eohippus the dawn horse, or the bird-mimic, Ornithomimus I never really believed it when I first laid eyes …

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Chris de Adamson: ‘Don’t Pay the Ferryman’

It was late at night, maybe after midnight, out on an open road, or at least that sidewinding, treacherous snake of a highway whose name had been tagged to many a teenage dream, many a drunken cop, too. I had …

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Albert Adamson: River Vis(t)a

The jetty is like an airport the fishermen with their poles swarthy keen on departure lounging in their tinnies full of tinnies Bats overhead at dusk drop passports of crap splatting the water prawns rise to the top eating it …

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joanne burns: lure

she wasn't to be found in the list. his eyes darted down the long line of the 'c's : chevron barracuda chimaera cigar wrasse clown toby comet convict surgeon fish coronation cod. he even ventured into the 'd's in case …

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joanne burns: no disguises

i. god laughs on as his mulberry shoes skylark down george street misunderstanding shreds the air like a flaming galah, the skate boarders flash by in mercurial currents loud as the rocks of thrace     ii. he sang to …

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Adrian Wiggins: After The Party

About the face she's photovoltaic. “There's marriage to make men lecherous,” she says, “I see it all the time in characters like you.” Still, a casual mention of the yacht by Lion Island sends her into a lather. She's dramatic; …

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