Lovely, Caleb.
The word argument however immediately brought to mind this:
South Country
After the whey-faced anonymity
Of river-gums and scribbly-gums and bush,
After the rubbing and the hit of brush,
You come to the South Country
As if the argument of trees were done,
The doubts and quarrelling, the plots and pains,
All ended by these clear and gliding planes
Like an abrupt solution.
And over the flat earth of empty farms
The monstrous continent of air floats back
Coloured with rotting sunlight and the black,
Bruised flesh of thunderstorms:
Air arched, enormous, pounding the bony ridge,
Ditches and hutches, with a drench of light,
So huge, from such infinities of height,
You walk on the sky's beach
While even the dwindled hills are small and bare,
As if, rebellious, buried, pitiful,
Something below pushed up a knob of skull,
Feeling its way to air.
Kenneth Slessor (south being south of Sydney)
But you do escape that shadow, if it is a shadow.
Motor.. remains for me a bit obscure even though windscreen occurs further
on.
And shipfold a word new to me, and oddly close to sheepfold
(none in your region, I should think).
(Did you like the setting of the recent movie, My Father Romulus?)
Best from Max
On 15/8/07 10:55 AM, "Caleb Cluff" <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> After the argument of boulders, stone bent
> shoulder to shoulder, the descent.
>
> Grasses aflame with summer intending. Silent motor coasting
> inches above the earth. This is the slope of earth's breast,
>
> and its curve is everlasting. We are leaving your coast.
> Come lie with me in this sliver-cradle. I am apron,
> oilskin, shipfold, heartbreak. Through the windscreen
> the sky bellies like a spoon alight. You so far above it.
>
> Caleb Cluff
> Majorca, Vic.
> 15/8/07
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