Monday, April 14, 2014

Avery Miles Mrs Jorgensen

My name is Avery.
My name is Avery Miles.
My name is Avery Miles Mrs Jorgensen.

Avery: Servant!
Me: Yes, Master?
Avery: No, I'm your majesty
Martin: Yes, your majesty?
Avery: I'm not your majesty. I'm Mummy's majesty.

Saturday, March 01, 2014

Thursday, February 20, 2014

I Three Years Old

Avery and I head off for an evening walk. 
'There's Frieda's house,' he says. 
'Yes, and who else?' We list the names of Frieda's brothers and parents. It seems like a lot of people for one house, the same number we have in our own home.
'I want to go see Frieda.'
I say it's too late. They'll be finishing their dinner, getting ready for bedtime.
We keep walking. I say, 'And a little boy lives in this house whose the same age as you.'
'Who lives here?' Avery says, as we reach the next house.
'I don't know.'
He wants to walk in the gutter. I like hearing him say 'cutter'. We look for kangaroos and see none, but we see lots of kangaroo poo. We hear birds in the trees, singing their sun going down songs.
We walk a while more and turn around to come home. He wants to go visiting. He picks a house and says let's go there. He says, let's go see Frieda.
I say, 'Everybody's having dinner and getting ready for the bed. It's the end of the day.'
He nods. He says, 'is it the end of the story too?'
Yes. I nod. I say, 'It's the end of the story. It's the end of the story of the day.'

Thursday, January 30, 2014

A complete guide to missing

A complete guide to missing
Follow the corner
search the thinking chairs,
open the surroundings
vacuum pets
small children
your boundary
with hopes of a tiny piece of breath,
accept the possibility that it's
high and low, here and there, in and out,
and you've come up with avenues
If you believe your puzzle was never there
then see
you've already constructed the however.

A "cut up" poem using text from this site.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Rapunzel Retold

Nothing would take hold
inside my flesh. Babies turned
upside down and drowned.

I went to the witch
Looking for a magic word
to grow a daughter

The word on my tongue:
Rapunzel. Bitter weed
so close I could taste.

My belly grew, pear
ripening, a marvel, still
the pain of wanting.

I could not deny
what the body needed
to keep her living.

I wailed for her.
My husband brought in armfuls.

Drizzled with bee juice.
Cooked in oil, or taken raw
dirt clinging to the roots

Moons came and went
Sky rolling in waves. Such pain
but the good kind. Blessed.

One perfect day.
We joked my milk would run green.
She was so thirsty.

What a marvel, hey?
Did you ever see a baby
born with so much hair?

Monday, January 27, 2014

Sunday, January 19, 2014


Last thing
Last night
Last minute
Last dance
Last drinks
Last chance
Last train

At long last

Last week
Last year

Every last drop

Last kiss
Last days
Last laugh
Last hurrah

Nothing can last forever

Last ditch attempt
Last tango in Paris
Last man standing
Last temptation

Nice guys finish last

Last resort
Last stand
Last gasp

Last I heard

Last meal
Last breath
Last legs
Last words
Last rites
Last post

Last but not least

Last line

It's our last night in St Andrews. I feel like I've written the sad poems about saying goodbye, so I just played with the idea of last tonight. Still I feel that something needs to be said about endings and beginnings. Most of my blogging life has happened here. I blogged when we bought the house and when we moved in. I blogged the bushfires and when Snappy died and I didn't blog when the neighbour's boy drowned but I did blog the poems Frederique wrote for me the morning after, when she could barely write, because my sadness was so palpable. My father-in-law died when we lived here and my half sister too and my mother fought breast cancer

And of course, Avery was born and the house became too small to accommodate us all.

And there were the tiny moments. Everyday life went past, ordinary and miraculous

We've loved living here and I know we'll all miss this house, but we are exciting about the move, fifteen minutes down the road in the car, on the trainline, still surrounded by trees and hills.