Really, the urge to write has gone...

if it is to be

18 September 2010

Really, the urge to write has gone....

man in the menzies pub

man in the menzies pub

wears minimum dress requirements

orders his drink

then sips

stares at the pressed tin walls

built by someone forgotten

painted too many times to be counted

looks into the bubble patterns in his beer

his fingertips imprint the frost

his dog waits outside

but his woman was long gone

counts the hours by the glass

Saint Mary MacKillop Muffins

The Miracle of the St Mary MacKillop Muffins:

While talking on the phone to my daughter on her birthday, 13 October 2010, I had a muffin epiphany. A recipe appeared in my mind and I knew I had to bake the muffins on 17 October 2010 to celebrate the canonisation of Sister Mary MacKillop. The dark bitter chocolate symbolises her difficulties with the hierarchy of the church in Australia and the sweet white chocolate the purity and love of God. Brown and white were also the colours of her habit.

Wet Mix

1/4 cup butter

1/2 cup sugar

2 eggs

1 cup milk

Dry Mix

2 1/2 cups self raising flour

100 grams white chocolate

100 grams dark chocolate

Method:

Preheat the oven.

Prepare the muffin pans by greasing them well.

Blend thoroughly the butter and the sugar.

Beat in eggs and then milk.

Carefully mix in the flour taking care not to over mix.

Stir in the white and dark chocolate.

Place the mixture in the prepared tins and bake.

Bake 200 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes.

Saint Mary MacKillop Muffins Coral Carter © 2010

one dollar doesn't buy much heroin

one dollar doesn't buy much heroin
one dollar doesn't buy much
one dollar doesn't buy
one dollar doesn't
one dollar
one

at the menzies hotel

at the menzies hotel
bikies on the stoop
their black leathers sheen
dulled with road dust
hold empty jerry cans
wait for the bloke
in a strained stained
t shirt
to bring keys
for the pump

inside wearing
minimum dress requirements
the local
moans
into his beer
his luck is out
no gold today
only snakes

untitled

fast food
takeaway
roadside customers
crows

i wished for this

i wished for this
empty house
empty days
my mouth opens
says nothing
the blank grey
sky presses
on me

i saw him leave
coat drawn
holding scraps
in
coat drawn
hiding shattered
splintered
coat drawn
against cold
against dark
against night