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Home Archive for September 2024

at 16:13

Perma-Crops , Farmer Bart’s Frost Resistance

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While Winter is not yet out and about in Huntingdon County Farmer Bart Brassica has been, well experimenting would suggest some kind of orderly and systematic testing that this venture does not involve, so it is more a process of messing around to produce Frost Resistance, and here Bart has come up with two candidates for what he

at 15:41

Spring Hits the Blossom Button Twice

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Spring Hits the Blossom Button Twice Image

Spidery white denbrobiums here tick the Spring, Sprung box - this Denbrobium linguiforme may be small but it’s lightly, if I could be jealous of myself for having this in my garden I would be. Not sure what it is that makes orchids exhilarating but they are to sigh for. And then that white blossom - ornamental here

at 07:45

An Orderly Consideration of Five Dehisced Eucalyptus Leaves + A Tin Moth = A Leaf Sentence

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An Orderly Consideration of Five Dehisced Eucalyptus Leaves + A Tin Moth = A Leaf Sentence Image

Playing tennis early Sunday morning I was distracted in a forehand volley by a charming leaf, you will realise this does nothing for my game, which was more a general case of hit and run than keeping score, and when it ended I stooped to scoop up interesting leaves, some of which had descended while I watched, thinking

at 12:42

Bart Brassica enters the Leaf Storm Time Vortex ?

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Bart Brassica enters the Leaf Storm Time Vortex ? Image

Some Readers will remember Bart Brassica’s attempts to give Time the slip in Time’s Winged Warrior episode, when he invented the Clock O’Later, which was patently quite silly, and now it is not so much that this kind of attempt to get the better of Time is a waking pursuit, but dreams are weird and timeless vortexes fo

at 17:01

The Thing Plus the Thing’s Reflection

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The Thing Plus the Thing’s Reflection Image

What happens when an image’s reflection is apparently under-imposed, fractionally misaligned, as in this photograph? What is more real, the photograph of the thing itself, the thing’s reflection or the sum of these two? It may seem there is a double exposure here, best observed in the visual echo of the daffodils and the stem of begonia

at 07:25

Nabokovian Moments in Balmoral : Picnic? Lightning ?

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Nabokovian Moments in Balmoral : Picnic? Lightning ? Image

Of course there is nothing better than an afternoon picnic, while watching Sydney Harbour change into its swath of Fortuny silk blue for evening, and first walking past this picnic Tuesday at sunset - the champagne bottle down two glasses, the food untouched, the picnickers, were absent, paddling or perhaps one had not arrived, and the jilted party

at 13:38

Postcard from the Great Encyclopaedic Dictionary

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Once at a Life Book Fair I found Volumnes One and Two of the Readers Diges Great Encyclopaedic Dictionary, and though I fluctuate between a queasy guilt and mischievous delight in scissoring out the black and white illustrations - mischief is a clear winner when it comes to making collages, like eggs in an omelette, things must be

at 11:16

A Deco Horse? Sea Horse of Course at the MCA

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A Deco Horse? Sea Horse of Course at the MCA Image

If you’re cruising the old building of Sydney’s Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA ) occasionally a panel or wall will open to reveal an Art Deco gem from the buiklding’s previous life as the Maritime Services Board building, like this frosted glass sea horse with it curlicue tail inset into an interior door. Curatorial demands may mostly

at 14:30

Tree’s Company: Tawny Frogmouth’s Affinity for Camouflage

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Tree’s Company: Tawny Frogmouth’s Affinity for Camouflage Image

What had looked like an accidental aggregation of sticks turns out to be a nest for two Tawny Frogmouths in the jacaranda tree just a metre or two outside my upstairs window - make that Frogmouth Vieiwing Platform. Two of these camouflaged charmers take turns to sit, maybe puff up a bit, deliver lugubrious side-eyes, and sleep. Watching

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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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