Trails in the ground
A series of speculative sketches on the various meanings that can be read into a trail left in the ground.
Continue readingA reasonable account of happenings that would otherwise go unrecounted
A series of speculative sketches on the various meanings that can be read into a trail left in the ground.
Continue readingRiddled with game trials, worn by heifers, mares, wombats and wallabies. I pause by the ambling creek to admire the beautiful skeletal boughs.
Continue readingJohn Brown stands lonely
by a red gravel road.
Perched atop the dunes, I watched the light of a waxing crescent moon dance on dark waters.
Continue readingLee side of the dunes / where Jim McDonnell’s hut once stood / midafternoon the big blue looms overhead and behind.
Continue readingMy grandmother assumed this aspect nearly forty years previous – easel, paint, tea in a thermos perhaps, two-year-old Easter eggs for sure.
Continue readingOverlooking green paddocks and a Menna Gum laneway my snug weekender sometimes smells like sausage fat but always of black coffee.
Continue readingRain cloud rainbow / Blue white, blue grey, blue black / Crows picking through bracken fields
Continue readingCut by hoof, paw and thumping tailthe trail leads into shadow. Damp grass and scrubby limbs lay sodden and spongey.
Continue readingNahla’s brown fur is bathed in the soft light of late autumn. She surveys her domain, eyes alert for signs of movement.
Continue reading