When he speaks he hears his voice
distorted, shrill – faraway
When he moves
he meets resistance; his progress is stifled
confused, he can’t feel –
no feet, no ground
like living underwater
this stark, still environment tints his vision
chill green
strident luminosity but
he’ll adjust. He’ll grow
clear hard scales, his blood
will run cold – transform to
survive. He’ll learn;
a dampened organism, tongues
insinuate, forever
in motion. He’ll see
through shell-pale eyes now
salt won’t sting
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Currently works at a public art gallery and a performing arts complex.
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 briefly tried teaching, primarily teaching English to non-English speaking, newly-arrived refugees but also as a high school classroom teacher. Has travelled Western Europe, North Africa, Russia, Northern India, East Asia, coastal USA, some Pacific Islands, and Australia.
