Show Me The Treasure

Home Archive for December 2015

at 21:53

Darling Dowling Chameleon Christmas Tree

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This lately constructed Christmas tree borrows heavily from the local landscape. In a response to the heavily loaded tinsellated furbelowed, gew-gaws of the season, I am hoping to find a balance between the local ambiance with its elegantly minimal palette ( thanks to Winifred Belmont's wonderful art work) and idea of rubbing two sticks together while spending no

at 21:09

Tell All Walls

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An old house, abandoned on Maria Island, paper walls peeled off to show the lucid frugality of re-used wooden boxes, the Vavarsium Oil, that must have lit a thousand melancholy scenes of abstemiousness. Still that fresh pink and patterning of the wood suggests a vivacity, annd adaptability, a waste-not-want-not-ness, a handbrake on consumption that behoves. An old house,

at 17:23

Dark Dark Lily

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Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 This dark velvety lily has bloomed in the fern section. The smell hovers between musk and death, the flower is quick to wither and hugs the ground. The leaves are heart shaped, last winter it disappeared altogether, as it if was on a trip downstairs. I’ve gone out to

at 15:47

Sole- Edarity

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Yellow takes on different looks in Sol De Wit's wheels and stripes of solid blocks of colour. This is from the Art Gallery Of NSW a while back but seems feasibly seasonal, or at least in the five flavour LifeSaver mood. Yellow takes on different looks in Sol De Wit's wheels and stripes of solid blocks of colour.

at 12:48

Three Beer Three D Printer Here

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Or make that hear, hear. Or make that Ho Ho. Of course despite this printer's ability to print beer bottles, something has obviously malfunctioned as these are empties. Perhaps it was out of dr-ink. Or make that hear, hear. Or make that Ho Ho. Of course despite this printer's ability to print beer bottles, something has obviously ...

at 21:10

Return of the Lime Spiders

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Like verde Fu Manchu moustache, like a new type of sklent exclamation mark, like a green wind suddenly solidified, the orchids set out early December to beguile. I count stalks fondly, enumerate blooms and new shoots. Heady days. Like verde Fu Manchu moustache, like a new type of sklent exclamation mark, like a green wind suddenly solidified, the

at 22:55

Birds Singing in the Peony Tree

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In an impulse to catch the sudden gorgeousness of peonies, their French fripperies of soft petals, soft fading, not yet falling, not yet momentarily floating petals, I see our set of fine finches, plum throat, fire tail, pictorella and double-barred, out of focus, in that 'in-the-woods' way, from the more than admirable artist Sine MacPherson have set the

at 17:42

Frond Moments of Cycadian Curliculation

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Frond Moments of Cycadian Curliculation Image

Last year this Macrozamia, one of two that can be relied upon to do their best by Fibonacci, sending up fronds that can be counted on, went off like an emphatic italicized exclamation mark. This year it seemed to be cued to curlicues, setting up this neat world of whorls. Kudos to these tender unfurlings of cycadian life.

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Curiosity Cabinet

As a child I thought there was a jewel box hidden in my parent's house, I imagined there was a cache of pink cut glass rings - the ones with adjustable soft metal sizing - laid out in pink foam in the nailed tight plyboard box in my brothers' walk-in robe.

Years later, I realised the box was really the back of the bathroom cabinet. I got a lot of enjoyment out of those pink glass jewels that weren't there. Imaginery treasures are curiously satisfying.

Here is a central point where someone who might be interetested can see what bits of words, some links to work published in journals and ezines, and images that I have made.

Absent Knowledge

We are talking about knowing certain facts,

and he says, I know all that or used to,

it is only that I can’t remember.

Is this not knowing or forgetting

what you know? Perhaps the head holds

a trace of what was there,

perhaps it is there but can’t find

the way out; maybe it was there but left,

or there was a rumour that it was coming

but never did,

like the promised holiday ,

in Pennant Hills. At eight years old

I would lie in bed at night a hardly contained

precipice of anticipation that time

would take me to Pennant Hills and a big house

with a swimming pool. I can see

the façade of the house, the curve

of suburban street, where that house

I never went to might be - or even was.

Though I know I never went, maybe

somewhere, there is an unborn memory

of being there, and I am thwarted by absent knowledge

from enjoying what I did not do.

Carol Jenkins

From Voices from the Meadow Wollongong Workshop Anthology 2007 ( Five Islands Press)

Bambiraptor

The Going Down Swinging # 25 -special double CD edition has at last unwrappped itself in Sydney, with a lauch at the Last Bastion of Civilisation last Wednseday 25 September. I still don't know what is in this CD it apart from my spoken word poem Bambiraptor as I was incarcarated in an invention called Good Mummydom. I hope every one else had a good time at the launch party.

The fossil Bambiraptor’s importance in the evolutional of dexterity and the dissonant name gave me this rave by Blanche (Street Car Named Desire) - here she makes a play for Bambiraptor believing his tough and powerful persona is lined with tenderness, like Stanley. This poem is one of my bids to get fossils to colonise and take over the myth as the substratum of literature.

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