Pemberton Tales #3

we looked at one another
with excited understanding
and maybe a bit of relief
such a precious place
to share with such a new friend
what if she didnt get it?
what if it did not enchant her like it did us?
undress all her inhibitions
meet her like a familiar stranger
and kiss her hard on the mouth?
But it was written all over her face
of course it did,
this place enchants everyone

she exclaimed in delight
Gen's eyes met mine and we shared a smile.

Pemberton Tales #2

we traipsed through the bush
banjo in tow
to tie a drape of material
around the slender arm of a roadside tree
to herald her arrival

Pemberton Tales #1

we all piled out the car
tails wagging
in search of southern treasures
bundles of records,
dresses, fabric
sparkling china,
an array of colourful mugs, pots, cups
and a hat rack in pieces

we delight in scattered curious beauty

aches

Restless and reckless
I ache for the south
to write a book about trees
and wear gum boots all day
to cast away
what feels like a disease
fickle but pervasive

summer #4

summer is driving into the hills
a room, intricately chaotic intricately creative
for ginger chutney
a workshop full of guitars like cadavers
for arms covered in grey water, pulp, feathers and leaves
grey haired women in long blue dresses and bare feet
and hand picking blueberries

summer #3

summer is for
colourful beads around my mother's neck
a pile of records hand picked for me by my father
and the smell of basil
a delicious heave in the olfactory

tactile

'tactile'
you said
your face alight

'I love running my fingers through dust on surfaces
and polishing something to reveal the luster underneath'

I think about your fingertips

our cheeks were flushed from dancing,
our shirts clinging to our sweaty skin
my drumming music had long ago stopped

you pulled your singlet down your arm
I counted the freckles on your shoulder