#Australians #Women
You who were darkness warmed my fl… where out of darkness rose the see… Then all a world I made in me; all the world you hear and see hung upon my dreaming blood.
The song is gone; the dance is secret with the dancers in the… the ritual useless, and the tribal… lost in an alien tale. Only the grass stands up
Now let the draughtsman of my eyes… marking the line of petal and of h… Let the long commentary of the bra… be silent. Evening and the earth a… and bird and tree are simple and s…
The blacksmith’s boy went out with… and a black dog running behind. Cobwebs snatched at his feet, rivers hindered him, thorn branches caught at his eyes…
All things conspire to hold me fro… even my love, since that would mask you and unna… till merely woman and man we live. All men wear arms against the rebe…
Over the west side of the mountain… that’s lyrebird country. I could go down there, they say, i… and I’d see them, I’d hear them. Ten years, and I have never gone.
Tunnelling through the night, the… in a splendour of power, with a so… shaking the orchards, waking the young from a dream, scattering… the old mens’ sleep, laying
We meet and part now over all the… we, the lost company, take hands together in the night,… the night in our brief happiness,… We, who sought many things, throw…
The small blue Arab stallion danc… like a glancing breaker, like a st… In his prick-ears, the wind, that… sings of the dunes of Arabia, lion… The small blue stallion poses like…
So here, twisted in steel, and spo… your sunlight hide, smelling of de… they crushed out your throat the t… you sang in the dark ranges. With… you mourned him! - the drinker of…
This is not I. I had no body once… only what served my need to laugh… and stare at stars and tentatively… on the fringe of foam and wave and… Eyes loved, hands reached for me,…
When summer days grow harsh my thoughts return to my river, fed by white mountain springs, beloved of the shy bird, the bellb… whose cry is like falling water.
The moon drained white by day lifts from the hill where the old pear-tree fallen in… springs up in blossom still. Women believe in the moon:
Along the road the magpies walk with hands in pockets, left and ri… They tilt their heads, and stroll… In their well-fitted black and whi… They look like certain gentlemen
Now my five senses gather into a meaning all acts, all presences; and as a lily gathers the elements together,