Robert Adamson is one of Australia’s leading poets and a successful writer, editor and publisher. Some of his collections include Canticles On The Skin and more recently The Goldfinches Of Baghdad. Along with Fleetwood Mac Albatross, this is:
THE STONE CURLEW
By Robert Adamson
I am writing this inside the head
Of a bush stone curlew,
We have been travelling for days
Moving over the earth
Flying when necessary.
I am not the bird itself, only its passenger
Looking through its eyes.
The world rocks slightly, as we move
Over the stubble grass of the dunes,
At night shooting stars draw lines
Across the velvet dark
As I hang in a sling of light
Between the bird’s nocturnal eyes.
The heavens make sense, seeing this way
Makes me want to believe
Words have meanings,
That Australia is no longer a wound
In the side of the earth.
I think of the white settlers
Who compared the curlew’s song
To the cries of women being strangled,
And remember the poets who wrote
anthropomorphically as I sing softly
From the jelly of the stone curlew’s brain.