the invitation

pre-dawn
in the poinciana
the dark cool air anticipating
the sun's arrival
silhouettes
of spangled drongos hiss
from branch to branch
fan tale telling
to those who have woken early
willing to listen

pied butcher birds chortle
and warble away
the myna chords of foreign invaders*
[this morning happily
their number is greater]
the enemy retreats
now they are shining black
sharp beaked and smiling over their territory
for this day
i am sitting barefoot in the morning chill
fingering warmth from a hot cup of tea
the cold has caught me
off guard - my senses
stand to attention

without pomp or ceremony
the door swings open
a shaft of gold
settles over leaves
grants form to trees
and gently glows
inviting those present to

be this [enlightenment]





*indian myna birds - also known as 'the flying cane toad' these birds are wrecking havoc on native species in these and many other parts - read more on these delightful aviators here

twombly [definition] - for Jen...

Cy Twombly Orpheus [Du Unendliche Spur] 1979

twombly [definition] 

'twombly'- noun - an apparatus assembled with creative spirit from used wire or wood [often a combination of the two]; either for decoration or for utilitarian purpose - often painted drippy white; 'a twombly', 'pass the twombly'

'twombly' - verb - the act of expressive creation eg. thoughts, writings, objects, dance - that may at first seem gestural and immediate, yet possess an innate sophistication - 'to twombly', 'I'm having a twombly', 'do the twombly', to 'twombly on'

'twombly, twomblesque'- adjective - a style, appearance or behaviour that at first may appear ramshackle and spontaneous - yet contains an innate sophistication and even a touch of the romantic - 'the house was a twombly affair', 'she had a twomblesque way of thinking', 'it was a twombly of a dress'...

[all in the spirit of fun - for Jen... !]

a cup of tea with cy twombly - in yarrabah...

Cy Twombly  Criticism 1955 

A little while ago in my post Cy Twombly in Rome, I wrote some thoughts on being fortunate enough to attend the Cy Twombly retrospective whilst visiting Rome in 2009.  Writing that post I re-remembered the exhibition and the profound effect it had on me - and - shortly after I began to regret the fact that I did not purchase the catalogue of the exhibition at the time - I remember holding one in my hands in the bookshop of the GNAM - at the very reasonable price of around 35 Euro [from memory], before deciding to be prudent and be happy with the tomes on Twombly I already owned....

Cy Twombly Untitled [Funerary Box for a Lime Green Python] 1954

However, pouring through these other tomes almost two years later and attempting to recall which works I had actually seen proved difficult -  and I began to wish for the actual catalogue I had held in my hands.  A few days after writing my post I headed online to find myself a copy of Cy Twombly Cycles and Seasons.  It took very little time to realise that I had left my run far too late - as I began pouring through website after website, searching for an available copy of this publication - which I then learnt - is now out of print... 

Cy Twombly Quattro Stagioni [A Painting in Four Parts] Part II: Estate 1993-1995

After trawling specialist book sites online I contacted a seller who I had found via Amazon.com - but who was based in America and was not listed to ship internationally.  Lucky me - they were prepared to make an exception [and even covered part of the shipping cost].  Thank you Ardent Books! 

Cy Twombly Thicket 1991

Cy Twombly Untitled 1959

Cy arrived yesterday - lovingly packaged for the long journey and still dressed in his original shrink wrap - and today I am relishing the opportunity to again walk my way through the exhibition piece by piece.  I am feeling extremely fortunate to have this book in my possession - and while I do believe in 'non attachment' and 'letting go', there are some moments in one's life that are wonderful to be able to revisit.  So this afternoon I am sitting down with a cup of tea and spending some time with Cy Twombly - in Yarrabah...

when planets align [as if by magic] ...

we make the journey past jilgi in the pre-dawn chill

atop granite tors 

a star filled horizon

illuminates the pacific night

twinkle

shimmer

flitter

f

        a         

                 l

                          l 

but four are steady – constant glow

they be not stars

but born of more stable substance

mars - jupiter - mercury - warriors and fighters all

venus - your singular feminine beauty legendary 

[as if by magic]

you have come together as four

and from the shore - we welcome you

slowly rises the orb that brings light to the world

and licks the land with colour and form

prismic gold

this glowing light

that gives such delight 

[as if by magic]

that an infant chortles with pure joy 

thinking of margaret atwood 5.30am

Mother's Day

5.30am 

the soft light filtering through the window

begins to give shape and form to her world

together - in this still fuzzy dawn

we begin the daily practice 

of answering the enthusiastically questioning finger

so keen to make real 

'that is the window'

'that is the curtain'

'beyond is the sky - and the sun

it is round - it is morning'

'dante' - 

'mamma'

'that is a toy - your toy'

'this is your hand'

'this is your hand'

my mind is thumbing back through time

'this is your hand'

scratching at the past for similar words

read - but not fully recalled

then grasped -  for but a moment

i am thinking of margaret atwood

and her poem 

how does it begin ?

later we sit 

under trees 

by a swiftly flowing river 

water such as you have never seen

you are surrounded by rounded stones

your hands stroking their smoothness 

attempting their weight

you are just passing your first year 

and already eager to reveal the mysteries of the world

later you will come to understand

the beauty in the stone left unturned

you begin

[margaret atwood]

You begin this way:

this is your hand,

this is your eye,

that is a fish, blue and flat

on the paper, almost

the shape of an eye.

This is your mouth, this is an O

or a moon, whichever

you like. This is yellow.

Outside the window

is the rain, green

because it is summer, and beyond that

the trees and then the world,

which is round and has only 

the colors of these nine crayons.

This is the world, which is fuller

and more difficult to learn than I have said.

You are right to smudge it that way

with the red and then

the orange: the world burns.

Once you have learned these words

you will learn that there are more

words than you can ever learn.

The word hand floats above your hand
like a small cloud over a lake.
The word 

like a small cloud over a lake.

The word 

like a small cloud over a lake.

The word 

like a small cloud over a lake.

The word 

like a small cloud over a lake.

The word hand anchors
your hand to this table,
your hand is a warm stone
I hold between two words.

This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,
which is round but not flat and has more colors
than we can see.

It begins, it has an end,
this is what you will
come back to, this is your hand.

your hand to this table,

your hand is a warm stone

I hold between two words.

This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,

which is round but not flat and has more colors

than we can see.

It begins, it has an end,

this is what you will

come back to, this is your hand.

your hand to this table,

your hand is a warm stone

I hold between two words.

This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,

which is round but not flat and has more colors

than we can see.

It begins, it has an end,

this is what you will

come back to, this is your hand.

your hand to this table,

your hand is a warm stone

I hold between two words.

This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,

which is round but not flat and has more colors

than we can see.

It begins, it has an end,

this is what you will

come back to, this is your hand.

your hand to this table,

your hand is a warm stone

I hold between two words.

This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,

which is round but not flat and has more colors

than we can see.

It begins, it has an end,

this is what you will

come back to, this is your hand.