Category: Initial speculations

Version #1 Landscapes of losswhy are we drawn to them? Why am I drawn to this place?To possess? To mourn?

Old Jim Mac and his dog Pluto lived a long time in their cliff hut. Most folks took no notice

Shards of brown glass still litter the sandy tracks. Once jagged edges now worn smooth. Smashed to deter the curious,

“We’re on the susso now,We can’t afford a cow,We live in a tent,We pay no rent,We’re on the susso now.”

News reports offered conflicting accounts of the conduct of The Artisan’s crew, the officers account reported by The Age suggested

Riddled with game trials, worn by heifers, mares, wombats and wallabies. I pause by the ambling creek to admire the beautiful skeletal boughs.

John 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.

Lee side of the dunes / where Jim McDonnell’s hut once stood / midafternoon the big blue looms overhead and behind.