Desorientation a Deux
I wouldn’t care to live again
In Frederick Street, Hobart, since there
My Aunty Viv, who’d fled the West
Coast’s mucking in and levelling off,
Its tainted, smelly cosiness
Inherited from convict days,
Became Aunt Vivienne. A first
Year student, lost to books and drink,
I boarded with her for a time,
Shared putting on the dog and sat
As English lord and lady at
The opposite ends of a long
Black dining table, where I heard
How once a lawyer, now a judge,
Had squired her to Gone with the Wind.
In bed I’d read, if not far gone,
The Fortunes of Richard Mahony,
And on my very last night there
Perked over the chenille bedspread,
Together cleaning up the mess.
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