Gedicht
Samuel Wagan Watson
The Dusk Sessions
The Dusk Sessions
The Dusk Sessions
The pyromaniacs of the gods were kicking it into that desert sunsetUpon a fire-pink, burner-blue horizon line
Blossoms cherry red
And naked solar flares drowning into hibiscus hell-flowers
Dancing a wake for the dying light
Above a necropolis of mulga and Spinifex
Fuelling until darkness,
When the tourists overdose on shooting stars
And the lark of min-min lights
On the petals of midnight bloom,
As the ghost-riders take up watch
Illuminated into the pitch
By the sun-bleached bones
Of dry-spell roadkill . . .
© 2002, Samuel Wagan Watson
From: Itinerant Blues
Publisher: University of Queensland Press, St Lucia QLD
From: Itinerant Blues
Publisher: University of Queensland Press, St Lucia QLD
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The Dusk Sessions
The pyromaniacs of the gods were kicking it into that desert sunsetUpon a fire-pink, burner-blue horizon line
Blossoms cherry red
And naked solar flares drowning into hibiscus hell-flowers
Dancing a wake for the dying light
Above a necropolis of mulga and Spinifex
Fuelling until darkness,
When the tourists overdose on shooting stars
And the lark of min-min lights
On the petals of midnight bloom,
As the ghost-riders take up watch
Illuminated into the pitch
By the sun-bleached bones
Of dry-spell roadkill . . .
From: Itinerant Blues
The Dusk Sessions
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