Ivan Head: Four Poems
Death of the Library
A library washed ashore
on the long sands this morning.
Caught on the low tide
all green-minded were unable to save it.
No intellectuals could push it back to deep water.
A few dealers came at the death knell
and offered to cut it up,
cart it off free of charge.
They did so in a frenzy of flensing.
Anatomists from the museum
came and boiled down remainders
until most vanished into
a pile of boned cartilage.
Trucked off, the schematic outline
was reassembled
so children marvelled
that such beasts once lived.
A bulldozer buried the rest.
Willow in Late Winter
I can understand
why people planted the willow,
though now it blocks creeks and rivers
and is castigated as foreign weed.
Just look at the sunlight
on those lithe pre-leafed strands
that hang down like giant mandolin or flamenco
strings wired as some great instrument
that catches the music of the sun or perhaps
combs out the long beauty of her glory.
Ivan Head
The English Reformation as Body Armour
It’s when you see
Henry VIII’s suit of armour
for the King approaching fifty
that you realise
the tension between
something and nothing.
That you’d need a jumbo
pulley and hoist, a big crane
to get that mass of flesh to horse
and joust. And now he’s gone,
the ghost isn’t in the machine.
Just the carapace remains
and what the commentator
gawks at for the screen
is the gigantic iron cod-piece
with nothing in it.
The King’s prerogative.
Poor horse.
The Marble Track
For this game
You need to be a child.
It must be summer (around 1960)
When the garden hoses are warm
You need as much garden hose
As you can get, preferably from neighbouring homes.
You lay garden hose side by side across the garden
Sometimes doubling it back, pliable.
The tracks must be on a slope of sorts.
This makes grooved lanes or tracks.
One then gets the bag of marbles
And races them; run to get them back
Ivan Head
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