I'm on holidays with my family in Port Douglas, Yirrganydji country, and all week have been struck by a sense of the hidden properties in the landscape here, like the hidden properties in narrative - of the underneath elements in the water and forest and the streets, in the heat.
spiders the size of two hands,
drunks who laugh too hard.
Rain that soaks a shirt in ten steps.
Something in the seaweed that makes you red.
Boulders and branches:
swept out of the boat and into the torrent,
Silence and shadows.
Exiles in floral shirts,