This poem is taken from PN Review 188, Volume 35 Number 6, July - August 2009.
Four PoemsFirestorm
The bushfires rant around our draggled town Life
Disintegrating some bloke in his house
And broiling others, where sedans broke down
Blindly. All blackened, from wombat to mouse.
That moment screamed in, rumoured to be like
Four Lockheeds or Rolls Royces in your head.
If you still have a head, now.
Squats on the ash: one charger for the dead?
Nature must lack the chivalry we could sniff
As brotherly tribute: something has turned out worse
With Plato’s cave become a blazing cliff;
Pain is the knot-hole in our universe
And yet the black calligraphy of trees
Can make this long view elegantly Chinese.
Where Are They and Why?
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?