author: Chris Wallace-Crabbe

  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    A cassowary in Tinbuctoo

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 17 October 2016
    1 Comment

    When I was a kid, I certainly knew, that a cassowary in Tinbuctoo, was able to eat a missionary, cassock, bands and hymn-book, too. Because it rhymed, it had to be true. But what on earth were those bands doing? Nothing musical, I'll be bound, And a cassock, what sort of jigger was that?

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Social order of wallabies

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 14 June 2016
    1 Comment

    Brunette or shocking white, these wallabies have their own special nook nearby, under that blackwood. Why just there, I ask myself: no particular foliage has given a meaning to the spot. Something about bone-dry shadow under those boughs appears to murmur clan or family. Yes, I know that sounds kind of patronising, but when these animals go through their routines we can see a social order clear as day.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Flowers react to Spring

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe and Les Wicks
    • 08 September 2015
    2 Comments

    Big daisies bulge on their bush, the lurid cyclamens are crouched in squeals of shocking pink, but raggedy scarlet geraniums have been out all winter and don’t give a stuff.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Colonial garden party

    • Barry Gittins, Michael Sharkey and Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 02 December 2013
    3 Comments

    The diggers' catchcry, liberty, saw fascism a'yawning/ enfranchisement followed suit, with racism adorning/ its streamlined passions for the cause — White Australia Policy a'borning.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Mortality made articulate

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 29 January 2013
    2 Comments

    For what, I ask you, was somebody called our saviour in the turbulent middle-east (still in trouble, of course it must be) two long Ks ago? Light flickered on dwellers in death's dark shadow yet those turbulent sandy nations truckle on, just where their ancestors ambled out of Africa toward the hideogram of history.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Spoor of a soul

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 08 May 2012
    3 Comments

    At sleep's near edge I busily ask myself — redundantly, rather — where soul might have its home: Like the golden tumbling apricots right next door attending on Christmas, my body has attained what another age would have called a certain age.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Peter Steele's King James flurries

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 23 August 2011
    5 Comments

    Even your Trinitarian faith .. Can serve as food .. For those of us who blandly lack .. Such nourishment, or at our back .. Hear the vague tread, the clickety-clack .. Of those great stories .. And gorgeous King James Bible prose.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    God understands more

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 18 January 2011
    1 Comment

    It all takes place because of some geological fault. I think God understands more things than he is given credit for.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Insect empathy

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe and Margaret Cameron
    • 19 October 2010

    Industrious servant of excellent fame .. You sting to protect the hive, then you die ... Instinct is such an unworthy name .. Which calls a selfless attitude, a lie.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Odd puzzles about sexual practice

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 24 November 2009
    3 Comments

    Some kinds of issue offer themselves like particles becoming waves, where your elbows go in bed, acceleration into a curve, how to draw hands and especially feet, or who was up there before God.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Torture is a dirty word

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 09 June 2009

    we cannot hear the sound of blood .. nor touch those random victims who .. cry out from the very moment .. when the electrodes are applied

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  • CONTRIBUTORS

    Chris Wallace-Crabbe

    • Chris Wallace-Crabbe
    • 17 May 2007

    Chris Wallace-Crabbe is a Melbourne poet, whose most recent publication is the late-modern epic, The Universe Looks Down (2005).

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