Jennifer Compton: Two Poems
the moment, taken
harkening clouds
storming over
our weatherboard house
rolled me tumbledown
with their driven, indifferent
distance
their imperative
going somewhere else
summoned, bidden
then that once, i was waylaid
by a green lure
a staircase
up into a wilderness
within which
each element touched
i sat on a lower step
knees to my chin
nodded, keened
(when i got to school
i told a lie
with eyes averted)
Jennifer Compton
plot
each grain slips off each grain
how can i make a garden out of this?
recalcitrant and unrepentant
sullen earth
i need shit, i need worms, and long years
digging in, digging in
until the sudden rain does not glance away
with hurried, scornful panache
like someone not prepared to wait
for a minute, but off
what will grow in such a plot?
nothing much, yet
Jennifer Compton
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
Aug 29 2024
6 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
Aug 20 2024
23 mins
A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten
Aug 16 2024
2 mins