Cosmic Dust

This is the view from Redfern at dawn, where they had crouched under the rolls of concrete and the dawn took everything away, the streets already busy.

I'm in the country, cows crossing the road; a clinging consciousness that just wanted to expunge all the cloying past; to make good again.

They had become things they never wanted to be; the emotional life of a dirty laundry basket, he said dismissively of an English author; while he took his own laundry to the local hotel.

THE BIGGER STORY:

FROM LES MURRAY ON THE BORDERS

http://pandora.nla.gov.au/pan/37111/20060828/www.lesmurray.org/recent.html

That hawk, clinging to the eaves of the wind,
beating its third wing, its tail
isn't mine to sell.
And here is more like the space
that needs to exist aound an image.
This cloud-roof country reminds me
of the character of people
who first encountered roses in soap.