Catherine Chandler:Scintillae
Scintillae
Sky of verdigris. Ocean of slate.
Threadbare clouds shapeshift,
scatter, then disintegrate,
their essence gone
the way of plans which, once discarded, drift
from consciousness. She puts the coffee on,
lights a cigarette,
attends the morning denouement,
the daily snare
of memories that give rise to regret
for what was real: a creaky seventh stair,
an ivy-patterned wall,
a simple oaken Morris chair,
a ceiling crack,
a chifforobe behemoth in a hall,
a red Formica table, bric-a-brac,
umbrellas by a door,
a bowl, a grass-green Pontiac;
how beveled beams
of gold leaf inch across a kitchen floor …
but not this one. An overspill of dreams
has come once more to whelm,
inexorably, as streams
are drawn into
the sea. And from that pure and loving realm,
her fountain pen with ink of peacock blue.
Catherine Chandler
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