“ …. every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness” (Beckett)

every word

Be born, live, cry, die; always cry.

Why cry?

Why not?

I am not on Earth

to fail to exist,

or any other madman's fantasy.

Sammy found something

worthwhile:

he found

- Nothing.

Eat, move, create, decay;

earthen in earth

for the Archaeologis...

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This is an attempt to capture the alien strangeness of the Nullarbor Plain which borders the Great Australian Bight. Despite its name it has plenty of hardy trees in places, but no surface water whatsoever. It is a totally flat expanse of bedrock almost seven hundred miles wide, and I have driven every inch of it!

The Traveller's Eye

O the light flows quickly over this blasted plain,

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This poem, from many years ago, is a fantasy about the liminal stage of a rite of passage. Looking back, I can see Celtic sensibility here that I was previously unaware of.

A Man I Know

A man I know stood beside me.

Looking up at paradise birds

in flight,

he reflected their colours

with steel eyes in blinding

scintillations. Carefully,

he began to speak:

“...

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