A Love of Headaches
Hand in hand we climb the stairs;
our bellies full of wine and cheese,
each sodden, drunken step disturbs the air.
We are ships listing on heavy seas.
We dock and crumple to the sheets
where those amorous thoughts we harboured, flee
to await resurrection in the hidden pleats
of another night. And so, contentedly, we rasp
into the hinge where tomorrow meets
today. The light of morning comes and we grasp
our hands around each other, around our throbbing heads;
bubbling out of sleep in the usual way, to gasp
in the morning air. Reluctant to leave our bed,
she whispers something.
“I can’t recall my dreams,” she said.
Richard Baker
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