Twelve Haiku
among the morning blossoms—
the stone turtle
more stones
bright lights in the coin shop—
jewelry worn off
the queen’s neck
my place
for the oranges—
gravity’s place
the sound of elephants—
the zoo closes
on time
lower clouds coming in—
one old address label
under the new
Trier—
construction workers in dirt
the Romans left
the map folds out—
our trip connecting
dots
morning puddles now dry—
names left out of
his story
not much accumulation
in the old part of the cemetery—
first snow
city center
the streetcar fills up—
people who have a destination
holiday party—
the trash crushed into
one big bag
back door thoughts—
a steady rain with
its own sound
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