TASMANIA

Tasmanian Oak and Huon Pine leech into the creek, creating tannin coloured water like tea

over the oldest convict bridge in Australia, and dont you know, it was a little towns claim to fame

and crayfish a foot long, the Cradle Mountain rock that was called The Fingerprint of God by a naturalist

you know in a decrepit old house a ghost stood and looked at me on the way, my car hissing like snakes

and a curving road, down to a little town with a cemetery on a hill, laid down dead fisherman lost at sea

as i met a black haired girl in the morning, and walked and talked about life, and places lived, things done

and i sketched a place at Mole Creek, and charcoal imitated trickling water in a drawing done in dimming light.