Author Archives: olsen

The Mountain People

  Easter persists in gathering us: a dozen families whose fathers were 2nd Brighton Sea Scouts, we come together beside a mountain or the sea, in some lodge at the dusty end of a long windy road. I arrive forgetting … Continue reading

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Witness to the Night Wash

  Lamplight softens the night that watches her. Silent as prayer she slowly washes off a day full of flour and farm dirt sweat. She wrings the sponge, listens to the water fall into the basin like the rain not … Continue reading

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One Prague Day

  I wake in the glass morning cold and clear drink my black coffee soul breakfast on cold meat and pumpernickel bread but can’t remember our last meal together On the Vltava rowers slice water into ripples of light that … Continue reading

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Jackaroo

  Through a hundred daily touches he is one with the horse, but she’s getting old and he knows next year he’ll make his last good- bye and pretend he doesn’t care. The dust and sweat in the pores of … Continue reading

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The Surprise Party

  the taste of autumn drips from empty trees the same street you drive down as the one yesterday but now a hollow brown the tiny stab when you see him after so long and the self possession of the … Continue reading

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Melbourne Ships

  They passed each other as strangers one busy lunchtime in the city. The safety switch inside his head made him doubt that it was her. She convinced herself she didn’t care, and didn’t look back once. Later he couldn’t … Continue reading

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One Day Soon

  One day soon we will see the sun arrive with silent Spring thunder & sink its fingers into the bay of dark creatures. One day soon I will sit & watch you move across the room, a breakfast of … Continue reading

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On the Beach II

  On the beach we eat fish & chips & wash our hands in the shallows On the beach you watch the children play & cry On the beach you listen to the gossip in the shells On the beach … Continue reading

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In Greece

  Language is in the stones. Language is in the dirt. Language is a windmill that no longer turns. Language is the only red poppy in a field of thorns. Language gives you two souvlakis instead of one. Language strips … Continue reading

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He’s Gone

  He’s gone & the night rushes in & swallows her. He’s gone & the next day is a huge empty coat that can’t be filled. He’s gone & the house slowly stops talking to her. He’s gone & she … Continue reading

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It all seems fun

  It all seems fun and then something happens, and things are not the same, and the smile you give doesn’t equal the smile you receive, and you move a step back, seeing once again that happiness is an open … Continue reading

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Easter

You, turning, burning in the blonde sun, eyes alight pushing out a gentle radiation like the pale yellow landscape. Outstretched in shade, arm across your face, the letter from him smouldering in your hand. Stepping later into the evening slowly … Continue reading

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Moments

  In the moonlight tail we float clothed only in ocean. Your tidal hands swirl up & down my back. I watch you sleep while curtains hold back the world. Alone in the night after you go I realise your … Continue reading

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Woke

  Woke to a morning, quiet as touch. Woke to a sun, chasing the black. Woke in a room as empty as air. Woke to sunlight in your hair. Woke to perfection, under the sheets. Woke to whispers, a weekend … Continue reading

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she turns her face away

  she turns her face away gently the cloak of thorns the bleeding glove touching holding a day’s darkness beneath the overpass a blue flower sighs the wasteland weeds watching day’s end release from earth the smell of heat & … Continue reading

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CornerMan

  shivering fall in senseless spasm pain so bright against the night so wet & slick screaming at the red dreams sick lips love tight sweat steaming cold razor flowers in the window bleeding angels dragging naked needle eyes burning … Continue reading

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In Memoriam

  He steps outside to let his head unfold— a rusty flower hollow with alcohol. Again the earth refuses to open for him only water soaks through to her distant bones. Her soundless memories return & all he does is … Continue reading

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Hania 29/4/92

  Like an old man shuffling down a street the night assembles itself block by block, dusts the corners with shadows, hangs out the mysteries of darkness, and wraps its arms around the boy waiting at the bus stop for … Continue reading

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The Unfinished Night

  The whole flat is quiet tonight The air does not move, the wood does not glow Even the walls hang in silence like washing on a breathless summerday The silence enters me and will not leave My body sits … Continue reading

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Rooms

  There were rooms we wrote our history, rooms marked by arguments, cigarettes and freedom. Rooms with fish and chips, empty bottles, magazines. Rooms that filled with summer sun and small talk. Rooms that saw dreams stay the whole day … Continue reading

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