It’s the grappling that I like. Under
pressure the grappling shows some days. The desperate scratch at an idea or an
image. The obvious rush at a photograph to start the words or to embellish
words already found.
My Poem 44 on Project 365 + 1 is an
attempt to capture the butterfly or moth which greeted me that night. It’s
striking markings it’s graceful moves. How not to say wings ... How not to say
flutter or even wave. How to reflect on time spent around colour
music dance (Canberra's Multicultural Festival).
you dance wings
moving
like islanders’ hands
your ochre belly
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