Aquamarine (August)

In our mid-evening circle of lamplight, where words are inscribed that may never see day, or a solid imprint, or the moneyed theatres of writers festivals, my thought comes free of any contract or false expectation. The stone enclosure of Chartres Cathedral is where we’ve been, its myths sunlit aquamarine and ruby, its apostles resolute with mercy. Paris isn’t the same, its august hotels and star-struck traffic eager to reward vanity, to make a virtue of evil. But my mind stays undistracted by capital debts, writing into the night favourite memories of charity, using a railway station biro of aquamarine.    

Aquamarine (January)

Janet Campbell, lover of colours, Journal 15, 27 January 1987: “A right beautiful day in my life. Awoke + ran into the coolness of a birthday morning– swang in park. Returned to my lover who had picked daisies in an eggcup + redgum leaves with white ribbon + given me a handprinted Japanese card + an aquamarine 1920’s ring to fit a princess of the sea. He is gifted in his romantic vision… Swim then visit Lenore’s…This eve I received pink carnations + a handdrawn card on a lacecloth… I am filled with love… A new time begins. Thankyou God.”