here, I am uneasy
this place is strange, this space
empty. This incubator, sterile compound.
your unit. Myself glimpsed
in glass (in fragments), a full-length window pane
Ghost image on a TV screen
you disturb me
the air –
so sharp it hurts, this high
vertigo –
you make my eyes smart
Far removed, a burglar siren jams
(you alarm me)
the heavy breathing of cars, below
you oppress
like a radio not quite tuned to the stations
a shadow pall –
a phone left off the hook
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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.
