“Sod the wine, I want to suck on the writing. This man White is an instinctive writer, bloody rare to find one who actually pulls it off, as in still gets a meaning across with concision. Sharp arbitrage of speed and risk, closest thing I can think of to Cicero’s ‘motus continuum animi.’

Probably takes a drink or two to connect like that: he literally paints his senses on the page.”


DBC Pierre (Vernon God Little, Ludmila’s Broken English, Lights Out In Wonderland ... Winner: Booker prize; Whitbread prize; Bollinger Wodehouse Everyman prize; James Joyce Award from the Literary & Historical Society of University College Dublin)


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11 October 2011

OLD POEM FROM A DAMP SPRING

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the tussocks


well into the tussocks I interrupted ducks
one flightless teenager galloped across the water
and then an explosion of babies
and a mother who did the broken wing trick about a chain away
while I tipped an old cassoulet out for the fish

the rain dug itself in this afternoon
my smoker smouldering some McCubbin into a shin of beef
while ibis rose from the bottom vineyard
to perch on trellis posts in prehistoric rows
and Peter fed his horses as if everything was normal


Philip White





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the painting Violet and Gold by Fred McCubbin 1855 - 1917 is in the collection of the National Gallery Of Australia

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3 comments:

Sal said...

Always a favourite. Thank you.

Anonymous said...

I've come back to the blog after too long away. I see that the accolades are mounting up top; for I must now scroll down a long way to find the words I seek, even though the praise is righteous.

And this is my reward. Too many obits in the last few posts for my liking, so you better stay with us Whitey to keep posting them 'til all the rest are done.

Philip White said...

was it Yogi Berra who said you gotta keep going to everybody's funeral or they won't go to yours?