“The way that can be spoken of is not the constant way”- Lao Tzu
Here you are in your chimerical disposition
creeks shallow and simple to follow.
Here one cannot create, or find conclusion;
there is no system.
Though you have bequeathed all arrivistic tendencies
for omnipotent bliss and ubiquitous rest
and can dance upon snake-scale
sage-like through a honky nut,
attempts to broach your most genuine
masquerade fall in a heap.
In this language
I struggle to see your limbs.
Non omnes omnia pussumus:
we cannot do everything.
Supremely patient beside rapids
I observe the clouds in me change
easy metamorphosis, easy
our only gauge of time is
Poem by James P. Quinton
Thanks to Westerly, 2005
Part One: Sardonic
For uni, we’re to examine a particular species of Western Australian flora. Typically, the species is rare, endangered and endemic. Our mission is to go to the WA Herbarium, find the particular specimen(s), examine, document and find as much information on the plant as possible. The point of all this is to produce a series of botanical illustrations to prompt us to think about bio-regions at a local level of detail.
Ever wondered what it is like to be orbitting around our little planet, then penetrate the atmosphere and fall to the ground? I have. Give your imagination a rest, now you can watch it on film!
I love the way the curve of the planet seems to shift between concave and convex as the camera spins around.
It’s a cosmopolitan sky
For now, a boat is moored
The lips of the wharf kissing its side
All the while I’m thinking this in lieu of you:
When I’m pressing my face in your welcome mat
Your neighbour licks a light post
She says it tastes like exhaust fumes whisked in
With pancakes & honey –
(I’m none the wiser)
I sit all day, asking myself
Is this it?
Cigarettes and muesli don’t amount to much
That’s the great thing about a hypothetical self
Courageously he runs out in the drops
Of milieu, feeding your addiction
& you, the beggar, plead hopelessly for more
Salvaging every lampshade and cupboard
From the side of the road –
It’s chuck-out week & your youth punishes you like a milkless fridge
Poem by James P. Quinton
Thanks to Westerly, 2002
Essay on Life
Car hits woman
on five-star horoscope day,
her copy of ‘That’s Life’
flying through the air.
The girl I love, loves
someone else who loves
another; it’s like preferential
voting, even Condorcet would
be proud. Or the turbulent
cryptic cross-word puzzle
that asks for the generalisation
Ned Kelly, our phys. ed. teacher said,
echoing from the megaphone
mounted to the front porch
of all country stations – J.J. Cale’s
Cocaine jumping softly in the background.
poem by James P. Quinton
also available here:
Michelle Lord, category of champions, made this film clip happen and editted it. We went to channel nine studios to record the beast. Had some pizza, beer and a few laughs. The introduction is by Dixie Marshall, the news reader for channel nine with a nice smile. Special thank you to Paul brown & Toni Riseley for their camera expertise in the film.