dead birds on the shore
she sees them, and sees herself
battered, blown off course
in the guts of such storms as
bully this coast
she’s buffeted: she feels her wings snap
by day her surrounds eddy grey and by night
churn black: the sea, the sky, neither down
nor up nor around no sense
no salvation – small corpses, oil-slick sodden
dumped, junked by the tide
dark damp broken omens against
panic and exhaustion (so tired)
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Worked in the Australian rock music industry as a journalist and published widely as a poet before moving to London and spending the better part of a decade in advertising agencies. Returned to Australia and tried teaching, primarily teaching English to non-English speaking, newly-arrived refugees but also briefly as a high school classroom teacher. Has travelled Western Europe, North Africa, Russia, Northern India, East Asia, coastal USA, some Pacific Islands, and Australia.
