Academic journal article About Performance

Sky Hammer

Academic journal article About Performance

Sky Hammer

Article excerpt

Flutter in a speaker-

it's wind behind the ears

A galah's shadow across sand.

The dance is full of tears,

the brolgas make whirrs.

Mind and thought

are only 'wheres.'

The dance is full of tears.

The Painters

They say nothing as they work.

They talk all the time as they work.

That usual thing-humour,

lack of language, glances. It's

time to speak,

to be able to speak.

A four-strand wire fence

Puts grey rain-hued lines

across a slope, a space.

In this country of 'country'

bone-white, red-scarred debris

where things grow.

Wind, the recordist's friend,

as cockatoos for farmers,

has made a blue V

in the striped cliff-line:

that grub, that caterpillar.

Chisel point. Sky hammer.

A snake swiggles along under

sky-basked red-gums.

Between each moment, everything

takes place. The world, gone, here.

Red, the blood of dead ancestors.

The dead everywhere in the eyes.

Everyone's talking up the map.

In the bridge - in the span - in place. …

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