Tuesday poem: Flat pack

August 12, 2013

Flat pack

Welcome to the world of self assembly!
All the basics are provided. You as a baby,
tools, a diagram of a family with two options:
happy and Tolstoy. Pick up the Allen key.
Turn it towards you so as to see the end.
Notice the six, even-handed sides?
This hex key is useful for casting spells.
Wave it over yourself and gurgle.
Direction is unimportant at this stage.
You are both magician and magic;
worker, hive, queen bee and honey.
Gradually, you will begin to take form.
You may lean a little to left or right.
This is not a fault of manufacture,
but a natural quality of the components.
Wobbling, flopping and total disintegration;
undermining by termites or excess thoughts
are also to be expected. The high gloss finish
may peel a little. Oil it up with achievement
(not included in the kit, but easily obtainable).
When assembled, you should find yourself satisfactory.
If not, please use the supplied rope as you see fit.

P.S. Cottier
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This poem is from my collection The Cancellation of Clouds. You can order the book on the ‘About’ page, if you are keen. I think I was trying out a little Dorothy Parker with that last line…

If you wish for more poetry, press this black feather, fly to New Zealand, and present the following invisible docket:(…………………) Poetry will be presented. Free steak knives are also a possibility.

Tuesday Poem

the wealth of poetry

January 25, 2010

I don’t mean filthy lucre, or even clean lucre for that matter…

I was just thinking about where writing poetry and short stories has taken me over the last year, since I started this blog:

In Melbourne, I received a brass horse for a poem about Adam Lindsay Gordon (a famous Oz poet of the nineteenth century, buried at Westminster Abbey in London);

I went to Sydney for the Society of Women Writers biennial book awards, in which my book The Glass Violin was highly commended, AND I WON THE LUCKY DOOR PRIZE!!!;

Recently I was back in Victoria for the inaugural tango poetry prize and saw a beautiful dance based on the winning poem by Charles D’Anastasi;

I have read my work a few times in in Canberra (including an extra short story at the launch of A Quiet Day), and once in Cooma, and a poem by me was read in Wangaratta at the jazz festival as part of the launch of the latest extempore journal;

My electronic pixies have whizzed around the world like Ariel, taking my words to places I have never been and may well never go.

I hope this year sees me spinning rhymes and prose like Rumpelstiltskin on amphetamines, without any impatient Princes of reason knocking at the door.