Poem
Ann Vickery
AT HEATHERLIE QUARRY
IN DE HEATHERLIE STEENGROEVE
langs het pad,immortellen in bloei; ragfijne kopjes
die vandalen plukken voor gevaasde mijmerij,
geen hei hier, slechts wilde bloemen wit,
geel, roze bloemen. overal.
vandaag is er geen steenhouwen
alleen steenbeschouwen, het halve werk goed begonnen
ik tracht iets te woordlozen
als ‘ikke was hier 2011’
graffiti als ouderwets sms’en
die van je eigen markeren
’s lands poëtica parkeren
op getructe koloniale wijs.
welke andere geschiedenissen maken hier
immersmachtend groeven? de ruiming van land &
verwoeste keet ten spijt. hoe dys-scriptiefte lezen, men vroege de groeve
als industrieterrein of toeristische attractie,
het plichtmatige consumeer & misbruik
van het sublieme ongegord.
dit gedicht reconstrueert à la kindeke Babel
een monument, geschiedenissen gesteente
ooit getransporteerd naar Melbourne
om sofisterij van de State Library te schragen, surplusplaten vol
littekens & achtergelaten. sommige vormen van het verleden overgedragen
gekoesterd extract (spreekt boekdelen)
rond schrale mijnhutten, drie kinderen
verstoppertje, een ander spel
(vossen hier nu gelokt)
(proberen) aan de ketting te trekken
van de oude trolley weggeroest op kapotte sporen.
toekomstende handen vinden alleen speelgoedvormen& zullen zich deze dag niet herinneren. behalve
drie meeneemimmortellen:
voor altijd souvenirs?
AT HEATHERLIE QUARRY
by the track,everlastings in bloom; paper-fine heads
that vandals cut for vased reverie.
no heather here, only wildflowers white,
yellow, pinks. everywhere.
today there is no stonemason
only stonemusing, all in a day’s labour.
I find myself gariwording
a kind of “I woz ’ere 2011”
graffiti as old-fashioned texting
marking one’s own,
parking the national poetics
in sleight colonial fashion.
what other histories striate here
everlongingly? land removal &
razed ken notwithstanding. how to read dys-scriptively, query the quarry
as industrial site or tourist point,
the perfunctory consume & abuse
of sublimity ungirded.
this poem as Babel enfant reconstructs
a monument, stories the stone
once transported to Melbourne
to support State Library sophistries. surplus slabs left
scarred & abandoned. some forms of the past handed on treasured extract (speaks volumes).
around stark mining huts, three children
hide & seek, a different game
(foxes now baited here)
(try to) pull the chain
of the old trolley rusted on broken lines.
futuring hands find only toy forms& will not remember this day. except
for three take-home everlastings:
forever keepsakes?
© 2015, Ann Vickery
From: Devious Intimacy
Publisher: Hunter Publishers, Melbourne
From: Devious Intimacy
Publisher: Hunter Publishers, Melbourne
Poems
Poems of Ann Vickery
Close
AT HEATHERLIE QUARRY
by the track,everlastings in bloom; paper-fine heads
that vandals cut for vased reverie.
no heather here, only wildflowers white,
yellow, pinks. everywhere.
today there is no stonemason
only stonemusing, all in a day’s labour.
I find myself gariwording
a kind of “I woz ’ere 2011”
graffiti as old-fashioned texting
marking one’s own,
parking the national poetics
in sleight colonial fashion.
what other histories striate here
everlongingly? land removal &
razed ken notwithstanding. how to read dys-scriptively, query the quarry
as industrial site or tourist point,
the perfunctory consume & abuse
of sublimity ungirded.
this poem as Babel enfant reconstructs
a monument, stories the stone
once transported to Melbourne
to support State Library sophistries. surplus slabs left
scarred & abandoned. some forms of the past handed on treasured extract (speaks volumes).
around stark mining huts, three children
hide & seek, a different game
(foxes now baited here)
(try to) pull the chain
of the old trolley rusted on broken lines.
futuring hands find only toy forms& will not remember this day. except
for three take-home everlastings:
forever keepsakes?
From: Devious Intimacy
AT HEATHERLIE QUARRY
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