Paradoxically, the misogynist aims his Gattling Gun
At those he does not wish to harm
Perhaps some monstrous or idealistic ship can tomorrow
Sail (with him on board ?)
Swiftly over the horizon.
Premonitions grow wantonly without provocation
Uttering blasphemies as they depart
To colonize or exterminate him
The painting had been a painful experience
Like ventriloqism with no voice-box
Like a hungry prophet his husk shook in the wind
Memories, stripped of daffodils
And pointing out into the sea
The isthmus, and Time is not Charity
Sydney 1984 A.H.