I am told sparks from a semi-trailer was the start of the fire of Longwood.' And
Dry lightening in ( twenty nine other parts )
And me.? My mind..Thinks of those fires in
Greece 'seventy and nine arsonists?)
Were arrested..They can't still be in prison? They must have been released?
Then there there was Los Angeles.! It was
Some homeless we hear.? Could cash
Have been offered.? To me one thing is clear.' There had not been an outcry.' From
The media who.' Are stuck to the green
Agenda as if they are coated in red gum glue.'
Sometimes it happens
when you least expect it,
like the moment when the burden
of yourself finds rest beneath
the vast canopy of a River Red Gum
stretched across your path
and there is a sudden clarity
lensed through the cathedral like
quiet housed inside
its domed height.
Its enormous trunk
and gnarled limbs carry centuries
of history written in scars.
You carry your own concealed
under the weathered exterior
of human years. Something
finds communion here,
life linking in an almost shared
awareness, discovering ground
on which all things have purpose
and move through time
being bruised by suffering,
slowly perfecting the power
to see beyond the reaches
of the self, into that place
where all perspectives meet
and join, in the vanishing point
of the mind.
On a park beside the Murray
on a state park boundary,
amongst red gums and black box
and the silver wattle tree,
there’s a place to go exploring
with a thousand things to see,
on the weekly Thursday ritual
for Gary, Tom, and me.
We’d sit and watch Tom wander,
speak about a boundary tree
that’s significance in history
is for the local aborigine.
There are markers in the river
for the boat fraternity,
and a place with peace and quiet
for Gary, Tom, and me.
But the first call for our Tommy
was to cock his leg and pee,
on a red gum that’s still growing
to leave his message; ‘this is me!’
And before it’s time to leave
it’s back to have another wee.
That red gum on the Murray will,
always be, Tom’s memorial tree.
Ghostly grey in death.
Lifeless arms and leafless.
Drowned by times erosion.
Change forced by the grief-less.
You were here before me;
a timeless guard and river guide …
once you steered the course,
standing proudly river side.
Still, you’re home to many travellers,
for 'tis the water they must follow.
Now a stark island wayward stop
or a haven with a hollow.
Stand your ground, oh Red Gum,
against the tide which caused your dearth,
where generation after generation,
preceded you to mother earth.
Love Potion
Add chinchilla fur at the end
Two cups of cold water
Ice
A pound of sugar
A clove of garlic
Four cinnamon sticks
A package of Big Red gum
A teaspoon of curry powder
A bunch of fresh parsley
Five lb bag of white rice to throw all over room and bed
Add some cotton candy
Ankle deep water, ebbing, seeping
From melting ice to flood is leaking
To form a rapid river flowing
Ounce by ounce this stream is growing
To wash into an oval pool besides
Then rush to meet the rising tides
Of oceans deep and full and wide
Where froth upon the billows ride
Upon a yellow sandy shore
Where shells collect up by the score
Displayed in jars in seaside shops
Among golden pears and red gum drops
From mountains high and oceans deep
Where eagles soar and dolphins leap
From high above to down below
So much beauty to love and know
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