| Achaean Minotaur, upon the shattered ledge; two men in frame |
1 |
| Agamemnon insists, despite your chaplets, the graces of the gods |
25 |
| All I have in the Promised Land is a plot for my bones. |
47 |
| All life is shipwreck – I dis/agree |
94 |
| Archipelagos. Cargoes of lighthouses. |
37 |
| Aria is my brother, my sister overboard |
93 |
| As for you, you meant evil against my house, my daughters |
46 |
| As the astral fuse turns off the light, the gas, the water. |
15 |
| Books stacked up like skylines |
41 |
| Borges and I/ Achille and Achilles? |
3 |
| Boys throwing shadestones in white houses |
59 |
| Brass banded rum tubs – God Bless Her |
78 |
| Bull leapers, labyrinths, now in the catalogue of Alexander |
34 |
| But that is all migration of text- |
36 |
| Capstan bar, man down, sing it in the forecastle |
82 |
| Careless – careless |
23 |
| Codex of fire, lost on the middle passage |
19 |
| cold lies, half truths, rope bound confessions, |
88 |
| Cornell shadowbox on the rock |
4 |
| Daughters exiled from lonely jungles become pop stars |
57 |
| Dreams she gave me; river labyrinths |
99 |
| Enclosing lightning in her hands |
92 |
| Eternal mother, strong to serve. |
80 |
| Every passing cup negotiating Iphigenia |
86 |
| Fire will still burn the black body |
16 |
| Firewalkers, dawn healed, fire breathers douse the wreck. |
20 |
| For twenty years I have touched with my eyes their vermilion |
7 |
| Girls sweep the ashes for the boys to run to the patriarch |
17 |
| God said I will take you there and I will lead you back. |
43 |
| Hands held Abhaya |
31 |
| Hands throwing three crowns, three anchors |
87 |
| He says, Poetry should make the visible a little hard to see |
18 |
| He was the third witness, the one I forgot, or never knew. |
12 |
| Honey and apples |
50 |
| I am combining the exhibits, sharing museums, opening space. |
27 |
| I carried him out of the enflamed house |
45 |
| I have come for the body of my son, I prayed |
96 |
| If you want to understand that dream we need to return to Egypt. |
42 |
| In an anthology of abandoned endings, |
10 |
| In folksongs they sing of fi |
90 |
| In the Catacombe di Priscilla the prophet is cast |
38 |
| J provides the main source material, supplemented by E |
49 |
| Joni Mitchell was levitating at the forum |
58 |
| Lalla does not give ghee all the time |
63 |
| Lear’s daughters wear wishbones in silk purses. |
48 |
| Let us then offer the first conceit and process from there. |
28 |
| Maria Constantinople is gathering the ruins of Mycenae |
35 |
| Nelly poisoned my windflowers |
51 |
| One entire phalanx fell into the crevasse |
60 |
| Painters spill into the garden at dawn, to quarter the mad bear |
9 |
| Pangaea and the first wreck, stones singing the ocean out |
84 |
| Peisistratus, accused of revealing the mysteries |
69 |
| Plunged into the literature of disaster. |
39 |
| Quarks bound to the masts, electrons |
73 |
| Quaternions of narrative |
74 |
| Samedi at the crossroads, calling in ships of rum and dice. |
11 |
| Save your liturgies for those who fall back onto the street |
13 |
| Say, let’s, the carnival is the book –I-I |
29 |
| She will spend her days on Argos |
26 |
| -signifyin’, signifyin’ – when the |
8 |
| so scuppers sailed to the 99th night |
66 |
| Sophrosyne, the world never made |
71 |
| Soucouyants, soca, swimp. Douens gathered on the Half Mile |
33 |
| Splice the mainbrace against the dark, cruel chaos |
79 |
| St. Kitts raised its palms, refused it harbour |
22 |
| Stars strung on the frets of night |
85 |
| Tack and sheet chanty, ‘aul away St. Joe. |
83 |
| The argument of a complex number, first order logic |
89 |
| The astronauts refuse re-entry; the sky is too delicious |
56 |
| The Atreus façade reveals the crimes; cannibalism, adultery |
70 |
| The carnival started on Knossos |
32 |
| The deepest holy is her middle finger and thumb |
98 |
| The doll nested on Plate 34 |
5 |
| The escape route takes you to St. Nicholas. |
65 |
| The fields, the herds, the sugared cane |
77 |
| The main doors opened, Orestes, sword in hand, stood above |
68 |
| The potstills of Massacre, barrel to bottle. |
81 |
| The saffron dress becomes windbound |
72 |
| The schooners sail on in bottles toward Bellesbat |
54 |
| The sea is tired of the burden of sailors |
55 |
| Their gazes solid as light under water |
2 |
| There’s a day for the hunter, a day for the prey |
64 |
| Things will all then fall into the centre. |
30 |
| Three rivers suicide at the waterfall |
95 |
| To the Lady of Nineveh, torch of continents |
97 |
| Traveller between looms |
75 |
| Traversing Liedland, without ruin. |
76 |
| Two fish won’t pull a cart |
62 |
| Vinegar and salt |
52 |
| Voiceless mother of exiles |
91 |
| Watching the panther‘s panther |
6 |
| We won’t then need to look there anymore. |
31 |
| When I was a child a painting of a shipwreck hung above my bed |
21 |
| When Jacob became Israel he offered me this vision |
40 |
| When Zeus turned the ill wind to good |
67 |
| When the Marys bring wine and myrrh, fresh linen; lacunae |
14 |
| Wolves chase the tiring prey across Capricorn |
53 |
| Yahweh is now active in the narrative. |
44 |
Christopher Cyrill is the author of the novels The Ganges and its Tributaries and Hymns for the Drowning. He has also published numerous stories, articles and written a number of broadcasted radio plays. For many years he was the fiction editor of HEAT and the fiction editor of Giramondo Publishing. Cyrill has taught at Sydney University and Macquarie University and currently runs his own writing academy mentoring writers.