Composition

 

Mario Fallani , 'Composizione' (1959)

[Composition] 

“viewing mario fallani no. 5”

 

composition was set in school

the topic a choice, the one rule

-         tell me about it

 

silence is golden

poetry more lasting than bronze

-         explain using examples

 

less is more

more or less

-         illustrate with non sequiturs

 

climate deniers exist

warmongers prosper

-         tell me something I don’t know

 

all machines are liars

I am a machine

-         use adverbs sparingly

 

ponder extinction find evidence

organise your argument

-         you’re not alone

 

small is beautiful

beauty is in the eye of the reader

-         keep expression clear

 

all I do all day is edit edit edit

revise revise revise

-         tell me about it

 

always the sun sets

below the ocean behind our city

-         oh really, tell me more

 

 

Letter

 

Mario Fallani, 'Lettere' (1959)

[Letter]

 

“viewing mario fallani no. 4”

 

you might not

be thinking of me

but I am thinking of you

 

all the time -

all the time? as it were

the letters I make take shape

 

the crush of artistry

no less than each moment

spelt out in close chosen form

 

done redone overdone undone

sounds that resound

lines to underline embrace

 

my immediate

and your immediate embrace

here is some script thus done

 

the flurry of synapses

within this mystery mess of music

this belief in transmission

 

and the postal service

this world of paragraphs laughs

and you at reception

 

all the time thinking, respond

in landscape, self-portrait

the breeze in a still life

 

and behind exuberant sign offs

is a timed touch of courtesy

and names ageing well

Scene

 

'Paessagio', Mario Fallani (1995)

[Scene]

 “viewing mario fallani no. 3”

 we are staring

at desolation on

our little pieces of glass

 

films the width of fingernail

slide across our sight

a transmit of catastrophe

 

hide them in our pocket

with phonecall tunes

and plastic money a while

 

to stare instead at what?

but only green the scene

beseeching silently

 

bosky bee busy garden

reserve where timber

grows and flowers and falls

 

beckoning the eye

with lucent tranquillity

resting the mind with quiet

 

insistent canopies

fans and cascades of spread

rainwater remakes in green

 

shadow and sparkle

darker green and light

bending from perpendicular

 

refuge for birds

depending on the hour singing

healing grounded to the earth

 

Life

 

'Still Life', Mario Fallani (1981)

[Life]

 “viewing mario fallani no. 2”

 

still lifes don’t stay still

stare? we ask how they got there

what’s going on, like life

 

a vase, whirled from the earth

has come to rest for a time

in this clean quiet space, like life

 

while around and behind

teems the world entire dreaming

scheming from need, like life

 

the flowers like fire, like fountains

colours defiant at the rim

begin their fadeout, like life

 

everything to mind recedes

let go in the time of ledge

and half-light as if nothing matters

 

but the view of a vase, past and

future the usual unusual encounter

we will get back to too soon

 

style life is so yesterday

the manner faded unaided

placed in storage a while

 

like this and other still lifes

holding secrets in plain sight

an unnoticed breeze and all of it

 

like life, that gives and gives

and is old before its time

until we notice anew and stare

Found

 

Mario Fallani (1934-2014) Gli alberi della vita 

[Found] 

“viewing mario fallani no. 1”

 

found the coin in a corner

I searched for endlessly

ready to cross the water

 

found the washbowl again

where I left it last

listening to hands in the water

 

found the house in the clearing

I’d forgot life held life precious

white beauty amidst the green

 

found seeds had burst the soil

as I raked away leaf litter

in gentle morning light

 

found words on a page

a revelation to me of being

in a book on an old shelf

 

on one day much like another

found your words to me

a day unlike any other

 

found sleep at last

a long time of it in the sun

that has gone below the trees

Journal

 [Journal] 

i.m. Janet Campbell

 

-a violet in front garden  -deep ruby

roses  -the first narcissus unfurling  – buds

of magnolia  -sagegreen leaf

 

-muscat black grapes  -pineapple and coffee

-tinctured persimmon bread  -chestnut soup  -

Craiglee chardonnay  -salad leaves  -pearl barley

 

-bike-boy with tattoos -miscellany of domestic

tasks  -so much is unspeakable  -about the

lover  -that bewitching element

 

-awoke feeling hugged  -desiring the

doppelgãnger  -dreamt so passionately -blood and

sperm -warmth -love -desperately at times

 

-eucalypt shimmers -delphinium blue and

unseasonal -lilies like green art deco

-pussywillow  -sweet daphne  -stars stars stars

 

-a Droste pastille  -rhubarb and cups of tea

-and an orange later  -country pasties

-cheese twist  -croissants

 

-demystifying  -confessing  -people  -at odds

with one another  -tram ride Saturday

night  -old men and young drunks

 

-despair  -birdsong chainsaws  -shutters

open  -never being able to live  -forever  -nostalgia

for what?  -dismal within  -insanity

 

-poetry  -there’s ink  -all over my fingers

-Tess Gallagher  -voicing my agony  -more than

this moment’s imagining

 

Found poem: words from Journal 45 of Janet Campbell, May-August 1991.

 

Bird's-eye

 [Bird’s-eye] 

Their feet leave the earth a moment or two

then return anew with monotonous ado

one then the other the ground like glue

 

they transmit nonstop ever as they’re able

across a territory called a table

then disband to write up their latest fable

 

they stare betimes at the lost past

deeds not done go from small to vast

while deeds done render them aghast.

 

My bird’s-eye view takes in the whole she-bang

the hermit, the committee, the gang

great cities where they rave and hang

 

craving flight they fashion metal copies

that take-off, land all somewhat sloppy

some of them do this like drinking coffee

 

then they partake in the notable farce

peering at us to make time pass

through long tubes of magnifying glass

 

while others with nothing much to gain

who treat existence as a game

lift the muzzle and take aim.

 

They are prone to flights of fancy

and headaches and occasional lunacy

their minds a blur of accuracy

 

treating the skies like an open drain

visiting planets all in vain

who are they calling bird-brain?

 

Inside their tiny mountains of rest

they lumber about trying to do their best

we find small corners outside to nest

 

they lack the gift of a beak

making sounds with the tongue in their cheek

a thunderous way to speak

 

sing with the aid of cumbrous machines

warbles that more resemble screams

and words best left to remain in their dreams.

 

King

 [King]

 

a cat may look at a king

it’s up there for thinking

though what she may see has no knowing

 

a mood swing is a commoner element

signs of showing he’s intelligent

though strangely indifferent to sentiment

 

a cats-eye notes him on his throne

slumped in the dejection zone

emit a low administrative groan

 

a dog sometimes, the way he barks orders

romps with fellow cross-sworders

or glares fiercely at transgressed borders

 

a bird other times darting about

a hair’s breadth away from being found out

winging it while he has the clout

 

a pool is peace to him

makes him feel like he’s in the swim

while it only keeps him vim

 

a kidney may be thrown her way, sardines

chin tickles, tummy rubs, the stroke routines

better than the other extremes

 

news drives him into a deep absorb

this is what comes from having an orb

his portraitist adds an extra daub

 

a penny for his thoughts

is a proposition fraught

best not guess is her best thought

 

his subjects by and large think he’s great

but she’s lost interest in the head-of-state

and wanders off through the garden gate

 

sleep is nice in the halls of power

whiling away a dreamy hour

her neurons soft as a spring shower

 

though even then when time is down

a cat may look at a clown

in her dream trying out his crown

 

Clerihew

 The Big Re-Set Resaid  

The Conference in Clerihews

Report of the Australian and New Zealand Theological Library Association Conference (Theme: 'The Big Re-Set') held in Melbourne Naarm 18-21st of November 2024 

Melanie Hechenberger

Zoomed half-hour surges

Sorted X in Pettee with brio

And assistance from baby Theo.

 

Melissa Parent

Made time well-spent

Sharing the latest updates, cluey

Everything on point in Dewey.

 

Philip Harvey

With a history

Took the hard slog out of cataloguing

But how do we describe non-stop blogging?

 

Michael McGirr

Could but concur

Cultivating memory gives us hope

As he took his next call from the Pope.

 

Mary Carroll and Simon Wakeling

Sang the same hymn, no mistakening:

People expect more than can ever be done

Libraries should cater for everyone.

 

Melissa Parent

Signed, sealed and sent

A love letter to the future, a starter

Writ in most impeccable metadata.

 

Liz Staer and Kate Wimer

Did not work by egg-timer

Information is abundant, universal, undeniable

But what is valid, valuable and verifiable?

 

Kerrie Stevens and Gillian Cain

Made the statistics perfectly plain

People expect more and we deliver more

Despite reductions, budget cuts and … more.

 

Nick Gellatly

Most gallantly

Proposed overhaul of what’s

A perennial puzzle – AULOTS!

 

Cindy Derrenbacker

Described a home tracker -

Belief in self, the righting of wronging

Makes for an architecture of belonging.

 

Susan Ebertz

Drew on experts

Herself giving boxloads of stunning expressions

For any and everyone’s planning successions.

 

Helen Greenwood

Quite understood

The unlikely but legal need for a quorum

And scribbled furiously though the Forum.

 

Sai Santoyo, Neil Horvath, and Mark Hangartner

Iambic pentameter (almost) partners

Proved themselves worldly-wise

With the hundred meanings of ‘rightsize’.

 

Huw Sandaver

Tagged ‘Engraver’

With incisive subfields on work forms cerebral

And multiplied entries for medieval cathedrals.

 

Albrecht Dürer

Welcomed tourers

Who engraved and incised as he pleased

But could only imagine the Antipodes.

 

The Royal Botanic Gardens

Contained gigantic bargains

Flowers galore popping up like Kusama dots

And canopies spread like cathedral tops.

 

The State Library of Victoria

Hushed inside, outside noisy noisier

Bookended walks from naarm ngarrgu (‘Melbourne knowledge’)

Noisiest travellers tramping noisily then back to college.

 

Geoff the Chef

Treble clefs

Arias and trills enjoyed from Grace Notes Singers

When not making dinners that were real humdingers.

 

Elizabeth Greentree

El-e-ment-ar-eeeee

Not, fashioned AI assistants by having chats -

Lack imagination but nice enough chaps.

 

Philip Harvey

AI? Who, me?

Wrote these clerihews -

He couldn’t refuse.

 

 

 

Window

 

[Window]

 

Window 1 a single mum

standing resting in all she’s got

about to deliver god

 

Window 2 a motley crew

of farmers scratching a living

with what the climate’s giving

 

Window 3 a Christmas tree

blasted at the root in shock

will form an execution block

 

Window 4 reflects the scores

of faces peering at every angle

glimpses as of living angels

 

Window 5 they keep alive

their patients burnt and shot

doctors overtime where bombs are hot

 

Window 6 the gifts a mix

gold of dignity, incense sweet spread

and myrrh speaking for the dead

 

Window 7 asking for heaven

amidst the mindless desolation

the lost meanings of their nation

 

Window 8 is not too late

a child in his out of the way place

teaching to all available space

 

Window 9 equine and bovine

watching with their seeming sadness

the child graced midst all this madness

 

Window 10 the hired men

who carry out the infant killing

the hard men at herod’s willing

 

Window 11 a queue uneven

of displaced persons refugees

and others now with unheard pleas

 

Window 12 the shelves and shelves

of self-satisfied Santa sales

megastores’ only holy grail

 

 

Lies

 

[Lies]

 

It’s all eyes

on the prince of lies

that’s his aim his ultimate prize

 

hell applies

all hail false disguise

he disinformation plies

 

human cries

their words he denies

who will live and then who dies

 

hows and whys

october surprise

he mendacity supplies

 

rooms of spies

who sells and who buys

january uprise

 

bridge of sighs

takes the prince of lies

from courtroom to court, where highs

 

are lows, mice

men, love means despise,

and yes no, and hi! goodbyes.

 

 

 

Dot

 

[Dot]

 

Panning back

from the dot of a long black

in its deep white cup

 

The wakeup lineup

orange dot and white and tangerine

pills for the blood and tissue

 

By day the traffic lights

dotted lines and homes beautiful dot

each advance of pedal and sun

 

By night the lightbulb

a dot in a thousand passing windows

turns square beneath the moon

 

You who are there

needing only a touch of the dot

on my phone to be here all our words

 

Florescent city

fluorescent at night city

dot on a map chaps elaborated

 

Moon soft airless white

dot amidst trees or long clouds

smooth light on the skin

 

Planet of an aquamarine

dot rising from its far horizon

in an old moonman’s photo album

 

Iris psychochromatic

a pupil of light the dot inside

widening contracting resting

 

As much as to say

the dot at the close of a sentence

is not an end but a start.