Fromelles
From a gouge across France
The plough yields bones
Yearnings race to that time
Their relics and buckles come home
An agitated time gone awry
New coffins won’t shake off the loam
I stood and looked out my door
Onto a highway, and a car stopped
And he said, pointing a gun
“Are you—?” saying my name
I said no, but the shot came.
Carry me anywhere dead
We beat on still faces in vain
You must answer the door
The highway sweeps by the step
The question has the right name.
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