the three popes / proclaim / the revolution / against teenage television

Experiments at night (with pants) # 1. Constitution Dock, Hobart. June 2011.

A: “This is a sorry sight.”

B: “A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.”

A: “There's one did laugh in 's sleep, and one cried, ‘Murther!’ That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them; But they did say their prayers, and address'd them Again to sleep.”

Now we break for a poem...

Tonight, Elfriede Jelinek

tonight
my sparrows
let go
the snow
into fields of carnations swollen with anger.

tonight
the three popes
proclaim
the revolution
against teenage television.

seals smash
their heads
bloody
their heads
on the elevators
the paternoster elevators
which delays the holding of their conference.

tonight
my sister
the wind's bride
gives blood
for the cello
of the jericho desert
which prompts the trombones
to hold a protest meeting.

tonight
I hang your lips
like birdseed
outside my door
and observe
through the window
their death-struggle
with the she vulture.

tonight
let go
the snow

Experiments at night (with pants) # 2. Constitution Dock, Hobart. June 2011.

Madness? Who said anything about madness?

Experiments at night (with pants) # 3. Constitution Dock, Hobart. June 2011.

We were talking about art!

Comments

Roddy said…

Magical mystery light show.

31 July 2011 at 20:18

Kris McCracken said…

No mystery.

3 August 2011 at 10:51

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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