[a wild south coast story without
the music that should attend it]

Earth rim seas from up here,
saucer edge from which to fall,
ships slowly creeping along
day and night, white in the sun
bright in the night star, like in
their passage, slow ponderous
satellites marking the limit of
safety known world, imagination,
fearful, unknown, forgotten bloody
memories of lost First Nation peoples
who knew better, things in their
place no need to test limits hold
fast to cliffs and caves and caverns
storied land lines, shipwrecks and
wailing, beached men women spars
floating, clothed survivors shivering,
no place for angry invaders who
somehow came in from the edge,
bitter salt-mouthed looking for
nirvana, angry with dour seas grey
skies no sign of apparent life, bright
starry nights offer temporary safety
blanket, hide memory of country
stolen and pieced out in revenge,
first inhabitants pushed over earth
edge into an abyss whilst somehow
holding on to what they knew,
looking in from the outside, the cold
of alienation, bewilderment, the people
of knowledge whose stories were lost
when their country was stolen by blind
white skinned devil devils, who brought
their big book, heavy armaments,
emptiness of soul, stories of lostness.