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I believe all actions of the imagination are ‘true’ actions—that all the places I’ve travelled in books or paintings or films I have, in some sense, truly traveled to.  >

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Catching Fire; or, The Art of Sitting

Mark Tredinnick

Poetry by Mark Tredinnick

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame
—Gerard Manley Hopkins




Mid afternoon I look up from my desk to see
A kingfisher alight in the water poplar.

For ten blue minutes she sits wrapped in
Her sacerdotal self, murder on her mind,

And I watch her steal her own silent show, doing
Nothing, immaculately, among the silver leaves.

Until, as if my eyes had pinned her, the instant
They drop, she flies: the stillest bird

In Christendom reaches escape velocity faster
Than I can find a pen. And I’d like to learn

To sit so still and to disappear so well, my body
Become a famished thought, my mind become a world.



©Mark Tredinnick

poetry

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beyond the sun-scorched men filling its plans with bricks—poetry by Ron Pretty

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Days seem brief and endless—poetry by Mike Ladd

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Paint for me/the word water, I said—poetry by Subhash Jaireth

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I went out
in the slow bloom of rain
—poetry by Pam Schindler

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I’m back there now,
alone, intoxicated, memory
my willowy date
—poetry by Peter Rose