This will hurt me...

I'm walkin' here. Aye! I'm WALKIN' here!

Shadowboxing?

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.

Who what now? Royal Botanical Gardens, Hobart. September 2012. I love you all. Honestly. I Love You , Sara Teasdale When April bends above me And finds me fast asleep, Dust need not keep the secret A live heart died to keep. When April tells the thrushes, The meadow-larks will know, And pipe the three words lightly To all the winds that blow. Above his roof the swallows, In notes like far-blown rain, Will tell the little sparrow Beside his window-pane. O sparrow, little sparrow, When I am fast asleep, Then tell my love the secret That I have died to keep.

The morning sun at the right angle can trick you into thinking that it is Autumn. Franklin Square, Hobart. June 2012. It's cold. So very, very cold. Long Distance I , by Tony Harrison Your bed's got two wrong sides. You life's all grouse. I let your phone-call take its dismal course: Ah can't stand it no more, this empty house! Carrots choke us wi'out your mam's white sauce! Them sweets you brought me, you can have 'em back. Ah'm diabetic now. Got all the facts. (The diabetes comes hard on the track of two coronaries and cataracts.) Ah've allus liked things sweet! But now ah push food down mi throat! Ah'd sooner do wi'out. And t'only reason now for beer 's to flush (so t'dietician said) mi kidneys out. When I come round, they'll be laid out, the sweets, Lifesavers, my father's New World treats, still in the big brown bag, and only bought rushing through JFK as a last thought.

Sunshine on my shoulder. Franklin Square. March 2012. Theme Thursday already and it seems clear that we have well and truley had a change of SEASON down here at the arse-end of the world ™. Unfortunately, we appear to have waived goodbye to Summer and are entering into the gloomier mornings of Autumn. I cannot be certain, but I suspect that the shift has triggered a dose of SEASONal affective disorder in the youngest member of the clan. The fact that he is three-years-old and a boy seems to rule out early-onset-menopause as the cause of his sudden cantankerous irritability. Everybody else in the house just seems flat, and I suspect that we won’t snap out of it until the leave shift to a raging red and golden yellow and start committing suicide.

Just out the front. East Derwent Highway, Geilston Bay. March 2011. The photo shows late afternoon in Geilston as the sun makes a last hurrah before the shift back from Daylight Saving kicks us all in the guts. I enjoy Daylight Saving. There is something about arriving home from work with a little bit of sunshine that puts a spring in your step. Conversely, leaving home for work in the dark, and arriving home from work in the dark, can be a little demoralising. What’s been the point of the day if all you have to show for it are the fruits of wage slavery?

Keep on the grass. Princes Park, Battery Point. December 2010. The blandly-titled Princes Park features the impressive structure that lures children from all over Hobart. Unfortunately, it seems that Battery Point has some kind of dress code, as all the kids seem to be little fashion plates... Grass , Carl Sandburg Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work--- I am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor: What place is this? Where are we now? I am the grass. Let me work.