It is a structural matter, a view from a window which has been carefully placed to exclude a whole quadrant of the landscape.

— W.E.H. Stanner
axe time, pale

               austere, Gregorian

the ridgebacks saw down

               bodies of clay

the eucalypt quills nestle

	fractured rivers

forked light, shrapnelled sky

               among plains:

everything happens once

to a grave.
myth softens,

               lacteal foregrounds

invite gaze

               and knot it.

distance is heroic

               in an easel, a survey:

packed wadding and shot,

               spit fumed wind-rose,

hints to travellers,

well-watered meadows and soft,

black poplars flourish

               syntax is plunder.