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Keywords: Kevin Gillam

  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Three musicians and a dog

    • Kevin Gillam
    • 17 September 2018
    1 Comment

    Bach Chaconnes, Chopin Preludes and high pitched whines joining cello duets ... has me thinking though, about the repositories of silence, because it's been here and waiting, in the 45 degrees of stairwell, the angle providing harbour, a balloon of silence, the colour of healing.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    The sound of black

    • Kevin Gillam
    • 13 September 2016
    1 Comment

    I understand the meaning of her silence but don't have a word for it so I scour night sky for a term for the sound of black between stars and moon and meteorites and planets and us and come up with 'evol' and write it down and then show it to her and she says 'is that the root of evolve like before stuff moves or morphs?' and I say 'no, it's love backwards' and she stares at me and says nothing

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    The boys' pranged up moment of shared and shed untruths

    • Kevin Gillam
    • 27 January 2015

    beering, untangling, cruising, jaunty and blooming, the boys, in the ambered half light, the boys

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    The wind blew through us

    • Kevin Gillam
    • 12 August 2014
    2 Comments

    We were song that day, free on the stave, note then note, spume and a whiff and dried weed, lick and boom of waves, nudge of groyne. The wind blew through. We were sand that day, sand and salt and shell and curled.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Rural prayer

    • Kevin Gillam, Deanne Davies and James Walton
    • 02 July 2013

    There is no balm for the yearning of eucalypts. Candlebarks stretch up this vaulted wanting. Dahlias splash an insane chant over a paddock, a calf nods and backs into a startled wander. One day she might raspily lick the mystery of my supplicant salty palm.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Love poem to a Hills Hoist

    • Kevin Gillam
    • 22 January 2013

    dear hoist, still standing? still spinning? still lapped by buffalo? we loved you. weren't allowed to of course. but we did. draped over, swung from, cranked up and down, merry-go-round on green sea. Mum's peeling carrots, voice piercing the flywire.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Australia's mystic river

    • Poet
    • 03 April 2012
    3 Comments

    That river is almost embarrassed at the space it occupies — professionally shocked to be spotted despite the camouflage dust it wears. It scrawls on the grey-soil plains. This consecrated vellum is read by cockatoos.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Before the fall

    • Kevin Gillam
    • 17 January 2012
    2 Comments

    The chant of the unseens — ripple in a magpie's throat — as the sigh of a city's prayer cushions — forgiveness has the weight of faith and cloud. And then rain, symphonic on tin, washing walls of doubt.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Our blind search for sweetness

    • Kevin Gillam
    • 08 February 2011
    1 Comment

    the tongue is bleeding, but the words come out the same. checking spelling, cursive immaculate, an orderly flight of birds across a yellowing page.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Charlie Darwin

    • Various
    • 20 July 2010

    Definitely simian features beneath those whiskers ... definitely a great big hairy chest .. Beneath that stiff Victorian coat.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    My story of God

    • Various
    • 09 March 2010
    1 Comment

    it’s a god of sugar, a god of shallow forgives, it’s a god of stained truth and glass asunder.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    What hope does

    • Kevin Gillam
    • 10 November 2009
    1 Comment

    hope sits dolloped on horizon. hope is found bleeding from elbows. hope waits for sun on the eyelids. hope is one letter from open. hope flys above, ahead, beyond.

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