Poem (tanka)

how old is the air
that bubbles to the surface
of the lake? how old
are my memories my dreams?
& who breathed them before me?                                
                                                 
                                                      — Ross Clark 

I collect feathers,

the white, black, grey ones of magpie, crow or galah,
the oil-pastel spectrum of lorikeet or budgerigar,
a kookaburra's henna and ochre brown.
I find them all by looking down,
though the discourse of birds is surely overhead
amongst the branches and wires and posts.
And amongst the birdsong, I hear it said
that I pursue this mania so one day I may boast
the colours of heaven on my lap,
the feather of an angel in my cap. 


                                                            - Ross Clark

Just After Rain

just after rain


when the water lies hesitant and pure


on the roads and footpaths


and a few cars still have their lights on

     

         just after rain


when the frontyard trees sweat the last drops


from their chlorophyll brows


and the air is promise-crammed and light


and there are apparently more towers


in the distant city-centre than before

          

       just after rain


when the pets emerge from under houses


and overlong browsers from within shops...

               

       just after rain


we breathe in deeply and effortlessly


we enjoy watching where we put our feet


as we jaunt home

                    

       just after rain


there is no other time that is not
                                   

                                          just after rain

                                           - Ross Clark

This House A Habitat

in your house
   i can casually steal an apricot from a bowl
   as i pass, knowing that it is not theft.
   i can look out the windows to see that
   the seasons are co-operative and
   the animals are free and discreet.
   i can write a haiku on the frosty windowpane.
in your house
   i am in a sanctuary that compels my labour
   to productive ends (laborare est orare).
   i can stand in front of the bookshelves
   to make an afternoon a holiday.
   i can read poems by their own light.
in your house
   sanctity has no smell
   save the fragrance of the breath of God.

                                             – Ross Clark

Sleeping On The Brine

Midnight pilots the mind to miracles
or mirages. Thought lies anchored
with its crew at rest and no lookout
to warn of the interloper boarding
from the longboat: madness needs
no moonlight, stealths its way to
the wheelhouse, grapples every degree
of wind, every tackle of tide, sounds
every watch with leaden tongue,
marks every depth beyond despair,
resounds its victory in every quarter,
giving none.
                                    - Ross Clark




Ross lived with us for a year and has been a lecturer in literature at QUT for the last few years, whilst pursuing his writing career. He is taking this year off to devote his time to full time writing as well as his music.


Burn brightly mate, Pete

Reframe

"Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked..."

Back to the framers today with 2 very different works of my own again - these are a little risque, a little religious. I'm planning on matting these two works and framing them in metallic silver frames before passing them on as gifts.There was a third in the series which was an apple and snakeskin boots but I've removed it from the equation and gone with just the snakes and nudes. The snake feels a little rough and underdone and possibly I've over-oiled the nude. I've never really used watercolours in the traditional method and these two works include some gouache to cover some of the blemishes on the white.

I have been thinking of doing some life classes out at Samford with a mate, Ross Clark, as the cost of hiring a model is prohibitive and finding someone to pose these days is not an easy task. Ross has been in my ear for a while to attend the sessions with him and they have both male and female models at good rates. 


I'm hopeful that this year I can shift my inner view to an outward one and make my energies productive in the various artforms I try to engage in. This Term is my "painting term" at school for Year 9s & 10s so it makes good sense to try and push myself  a little harder and develop my own painting skills a little more (though probably not with nudes).


Burn brightly, Pete