Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, 21 February 2013

Kestrel Killer

The Nankeen Kestrel ((Falco cenchroides) is a favourite raptor of mine. I see them every day on the Mundijong Road. But my relationship to them is ambivalent. Today is the anniversary of my killing one of their brethren. They hover and dive onto the roadside verges to catch their prey and I hit one in my Hybrid at 100klms per hour two years ago. Only now can I give expression to this powerful psychoterratic feeling.
This wonderful Image from:
http://www.flickriver.com/places/Australia/Western+Australia/Perth/Innaloo/

Kestrel Killer
Up ahead,
a Nankeen Kestrel with killer eyes                                                 
locked-onto a roadside rodent.                                                 
A crash dive catch and …
a turn to return to the sky.                                                      
Automobile meets aviator at
the intersection of feathers and steel.
Feeling thud physics at 100 clicks
turn orange oblivion cartwheels.                                
No bird return from such a hit
yet my wound will never heal.               
Long after the intersection
I am still caught in the addiction
of the calculus of stoop.                                                                    
My kestrel car eye
now scans for hovering tension.                              
A glimpse of nankeen
could kill me.

Sunday, 22 April 2007

Something Borrowed

Something Borrowed …

A connoisseur
of the consumer society
Collector of pegs, plastic
and precious cobalt antiques
Finder of lost marble memories

Indigo eye ego artist
‘stick figure with charcoal wash’
An amorous avenue for
feather dancing to liquid song
the bower of babble on

Cryptic green female critics
searching for …

Something blue.

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Copyright Glenn Albrecht 2007

Image from: http://www.amonline.net.au/factsheets/satin_bowerbird.htm
With thanks to The Australian Museum.

Wednesday, 4 April 2007

Life Out of Balance

Life Out of Balance

A thousand years of Aamjiwnaang dreams
spirits touched by pure steam
from sweat lodge rocks
that release a culture’s memory.

One hundred short years of inversion
in the Chemical Valley
fugitive emissions into every space
Is the maple syrup really sweet?

Geese struggle for formation in miasmic air
benzene tears in the artist’s eye
reveal the reasons for
Benjamin Chee Chee’s suicide.

Sweet innocent boys go missing
So too the Snapping Turtle penis
shrinking in the chromosome chaos
the Hopi call Koyaanisqatsi.

A hundred long years of restoration
Geese, turtles and children
once again in perfect formation
life in beautiful balance.

Copyright: Glenn Albrecht



*also A Film by Godfrey Reggio, with Music by Philip Glass.
Ko.yaa.nis.qatsi (from the Hopi language), n. 1. Crazy life. 2. Life in turmoil. 3. Life disintegrating. 4. Life out of balance. 5. A state of life that calls for another way of living.

Written on the release of information about the feminisation of the population of Aamjiwnaang First Nation people and snapping turtles. Twice the number of girls are being born than boys and the ‘feminised’ turtles have diminished penis size. Pollution from ‘chemical valley’ (Sarnia, Ontario) is thought to be implicated. Benjamin Chee Chee was a Native American artist, now famous for his portraits of Canada Geese and other birds. His Autumn Flight is depicted. I see his attempt to keep the world in order/balance in geese art as his way of trying to defeat the pathology and tragedy of nostalgia and solastalgia. The Aaamjiwnaang tell of geese trying to land in Chemical Valley in a cloud of benzene and dying before they hit water. Chee Chee's suicide, the problems of Indigenous people and the death of order in Canada Geese seem somehow connected.

Benjamin Chee Chee Image from http://www.whetung.com/chee.html with deep appreciation.

Friday, 23 March 2007

Turtle Tears

Turtle Tears

A leatherback turtle
caught in the wrong millennium
comes ashore one last time.

A long life cut short
by a long line of torture
… dying of detritus.

Hooks worm their way into flesh
necrotic nets garrotte the neck
body buoyed down and drowning.

Turtle tears soak the sand
a final sight of its hatching beach
a final sigh that traverses the world.

Ocean waves crash in the death shell
all ears hear the sighs and cries
too late to untangle the extinction.

Copyright: Glenn Albrecht.

[Written on the news (January 2006) of a two metre long, 150 year old, 350 kilogram, leatherback turtle that beached itself on the Victorian coast and died of injuries incurred as a result of entanglement in discarded fishing and boating gear]