White dreaming

Great old and

longing southern land,

you have silently

twisted, moved

and interrogated us,

and you have turned our

blind colonial ways to other forms

through your presence of dreams,

through your patient reforming

of our bloated selves,

through your landscape that’s

groaning and calling out to us

through the eons,

from the First Peoples,

and the dreams of beginning,

to the times when none

will be left but you.


We are learning in your arms;

we are growing at the nipples

of your generous breasts;

we acknowledge

all that you were,

and all that you are

and all that you continue to give.