Went to Passionate Tongues last night and had a marvellous old time catching up with people and enjoying the work of the features Ian McBryde and Amelia Walker. The open stage was also a good opportunity to hear the work of poets I know from around the scene, but had yet to hear properly. Ben “I.Q.” Saunders and Jo Mundy spring to mind here.

This was written last week and is currently in the mid-polish state.

Thirteen Hours Into Summer
 
Melbourne. We are
thirteen hours into summer
and I have not seen the sun.
Have you lost it? Did you look?
 
The clouds rolling overhead are
too busy, too majestic to help find
what you are looking for.
Did you ask them? Did they respond?
 
We are running out of time.
We have only ninety days, eleven hours
but you seem unconcerned.
Aren’t you worried? Do you care?
 
Unemployed shadows are
jammed into cracks and corners.
Wait nervously for their cue
how long their wait? when can they breathe out?
 
Put your name on the sun, Melbourne,
when you find it. This time put it down
in the first place you would look,
not the last.
 

Reading: “Penguin Modern Poets 17: Gascoyne, Graham, Raine”
Listening: “Don’t Send Me Onions” – Miles Hunt

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