Moon Dreaming
Moon Dreaming
In the mountains where the Otways
run into the ocean at Apollo Bay,
the big blackwoods
pull the fog down around their shoulders.
They arrange the mist as if it were
a white woolly crocheted shawl.
I am planting trees slowly on the steep slope.
My daughter drops off the pills
that kept her asleep for a year.
We hibernated beneath
the cold ice of consciousness.
How have I been driven
from the company of beautiful women?
I take lungfuls of eucalypt oxygen
infusing my heaving frame
with a fecund blue perfume.
Late at night after work
I get lost in the dark
starless sky
in the huge flat endless beach
walking toward the moon.
Patrick McCauley
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