A girl asked you: What is poetry?

Flammable. Fossil Cove Drive, Tinderbox. December 2012.

Still warm down here in Tasmania. A heat-wave, if you will. Before you lot stuck snowbound up at the top end of the world get too jealous let me remind you of bushfires, sticky nights and smelly buses...

She Asked You, Vladimir Holan

A girl asked you: What is poetry?
You wanted to say to her: You are too, ah yes, you are
and that in fear and wonder,
which prove the miracle,
I'm jealous of your beauty's ripeness,
and because I can't kiss you nor sleep with you,
and because I have nothing and whoever has nothing to give
must sing...

But you didn't say it, you were silent
and she didn't hear the song.

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Mad as hell

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