And you are listening

It is 10.40pm in Paris and they have taken host­ages at the Bataclan It is 11pm and some­where on Face­book a kid posts: “they are killing every­body. one by one.” It is 4pm in Mel­bourne and my friend is giving birth to a little boy named Clancy but...

When I was 12

i ran away and for one wild secret day any­thing was pos­sible i huddled in the recessed entry to the Com­mon­wealth Bank in Garema Place and watched a pro­ces­sion of police who (i was pretty sure) were looking for me i guarded my pre­cious solitude...

Six scant years

The year my daughter was born I thought maybe we were starting to get it right after all A woman was prime min­ister of Aus­tralia And Julia was elo­quent and sharp And fought for justice, cli­mate, all the ways (we thought) You’d expect...

Nice

I don’t know how (some) women do it — I see you out there (tumblr, Face­book, twitter, lj) — you are as vir­u­lent, vicious, out­raged (hurt) as I feel by this end­less parade, this daily offence, this unre­lenting (drip drip drip)...

Intersections

On the banks of the river Tajo I sat with Alvarez talking about Deleuze Curious, soft — moments of dis­covery. In Queens­land heat — a bar at 11pm after cat empire reigned with those horns and that Wurl­itzer sound circ­ling around...

Mute

In the first heat of summer 2014 I lost all my words. They fell away from me like scales Or rather were trapped in my head Unable to emerge from closed lips. Touch and ges­ture were left to me And so, being inadept in their use, I learned...

It all adds up

A card­board mock-up of the grassy knoll And route markers along a Dallas road Is an odd toy for a child, espe­cially in 1970s Aus­tralia. Little wonder I gradu­ated to 10 Days that Shook the World and Huis Clos at 14. Even less that Sey­mour Hirsh...

Righteous anger, right?

It’s past time, people. Rise up. How foetid does the stink of cor­rup­tion have to be? Rise up. How much ice has to melt? How many fires burn? How many forests? How many teen­agers must be shot? Rise up! How many journ­al­ists must be jailed...

Rehearsal

Many years ago, in the long ago times of dish-pan hands and iced-coffee banana shakes with three scoops of ice-cream, a time before gluten-and-dairy intol­er­ance, a time before it seemed I knew any­thing about weight loss. It was a time of Oak...