A smouldering grid on a cypress stand
Leaving Melbourne, the highway curves slowly past estates
There’s no silence like the silence of a huge crowd
Leaving Melbourne, the highway curves slowly past estates
I call them out to greet you: your groundlings
It took Cain a lifetime of black sweat
When Dad’s gait became too unsteady even for a walking-stick
Before the storms arrived last night, constellations danced
I was reading the announcement of an element discovered
At 30,000 feet, only the clever calligraphy
Over red clay that’s been turned for my Dad’s tombstone
Early summer sun’s
Above trees I can see through the kitchen window
‘I suppose I must have been unaccustomed to the noise.'
Galileo climbed to the top of the tower from where he addressed his students
We're announced by a little bell as we enter.
In this old Western you’re watching, you’ll see me
Like missing-person posters at the local mall
The thing about water lilies is, you have to trim the dead bits
I’d watch TV while my grandmother baked and roasted
We saw him once: ushered into the back room at the record store
Head up the street from here and you’ll see two sailboats