dandelion clocks –
a forecast of wind
Author: Rebecca Sullivan
Listen to this song by poet Maximus Lewis here
behind the mirror
your rough skin and thick neck
my face delivered into working hands
a river salt leached in compounded tide
palms breathing internally like a cup
heels compressed into my chin
into the folds of my forehead
skin peeled fingers
bearing weight
your shoulders braced away from wrists
.
in collaboration with Max
First published in Southerly Literary Journal 76.2, November 2016
- noise, advice, conversation and a song under water were not submitted to Southerly.
- a song under water is due to be exhibited along with the audio version at the George Paton Gallery, University of Melbourne, October 4th-13th, 2017
audio versions found here
a piece of the ground
polystyrene impacted
reduced to glutinous meal
luxuriating in a dish of rind
honey muzzled
the bread sopped egg
cavern shadow dipped
in molten soup
yolk disguising
a tempest spoon
1.
on turquoise ground
rooftops are flag forced
revolution red
risking reprisals
yellow stars are ripped
only on city outskirts
in homage to a stolen lama
Shigaste restaurateurs
pull curtains
over Beijing’s chosen Panchen
but back in the capital
binoculars pore over prostrations
and Buddha’s blessings are molested
at temple gate checkpoints
machine gun operators
operating their lungs
over chanting nomads
om mani padma hung
clockwise hum plaited
in the sound hair of pilgrims
melting butter
in the sage fired
Jokhang air
in the base of my belly
in my neck
behind my eyes
in my right breast
a tourist attraction
one way permeability
all Tibetan passports
were confiscated in 2012
2.
my train reverses
a forty-hour goodbye
in the smoke-filled carriage
the beige borders blur
ranges melt
I meet an airport gate
I transit out
waves folding on the sound
of the 747
Air Asia knees
white slippers under blanket
in the seat pocket
my travel guide
written in English and Chinese
bought at a Beijing station
and permitted to enter and leave
Lhasa
Tibet
