Bird Nesting
He shinned up for the eggs
Lapwing starling jay
Blue speckled yellow
The infinite possibilities
We babbled from our gawping
Schoolboy mouths our faces
Huddled like eggs in a nest
Around the pole
Higher and higher he shinned
Village Icarus
His heroic love of eggs the fount
Of his knowledge of colour and form
As he raised his hand to feel
For the warmth of perfection
The potential of beauty
His hand caught the wire
And his body was transformed
Frozen in the shock of electricity
Transfigured in lightning
His eyes were ice-stars
As he went into a free-fall
Of stars and light and fire
Parachuted down
In a cloud of admiration
We stood huddled in nests of
Self-consolation the next day;
Hands in pockets, chewing on straw
Like our fathers chewed on cigarettes
We told the tales: his body was black
Shrivelled to half the size;
Each story believed like
Our fathers home from the war.
The women of the village dragged
His mother scratching at the grave
Scratching for the consolation
Of the perfection of eggs.
Andy Halksworth
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