How can clouds

be

  • wispy
  • sweeping
  • changing
  • swirling
  • accentuating
  • shifting
  • intersecting
  • overlaying
  • whirling
  • inspiring
  • enlivening
  • twirling
  • flowing
  • revitalizing

How can clouds

be

After a mediocre movie

highly recommended

Nomadland

Flat affect

Flat dialogue

Narrow opening

on a profound subject

Contrast

Late night reading

a wonder of a book

Indelicacy

Like reading a long poem

All words

resonate

Hints of a story

provide an opening

to embrace humanity

Leaving the cinema at night

surprised I can still drive

I am not a character in a film

The streets are Canberra

not France

The lights are shining

on Lake Burley Griffin


Watching movies

brings another reality

a heightened unreality

of the real



Movies take me

in and out of reality

With more space

More options

Everything slightly off

Not quite right

Not quite normal



The reality of movies

More than real

Life worth living

Even if it’s not my life

I love movies

A ship went down

Lives changed and lost

On the rocky coast

Lives above expanded

Love prevails



A rocky shore

A place to share

With whales, wallabies, lizards

 Not mine alone

Push aside

Selfish thought of control



No limits of rocky shore

Lines of whales

Twisted gum trees

Yellow flowered vines

No limits of sharing

 

Watching clouds

occasional birds

Cockatoos fly by

A kurrawong pauses

on the balcony

Swallowing something

long and thin

 

Trying to manage

myself

in the house of my son

Suspending my plan

My need to

organise

Get things done

Surrendering

to the realization

He is engaged

writing

responding

to ideas

on his computer

 

Accept possible chaos

Rejoice in art

Embrace creativity

Remember the film

In Your Hands

Rather than hands

It is in your head

In your thoughts

Where are you going?

 

Poetry the precise

Yet unexpected

Capturing elusive

Emotions

With minimum words

 

Remember

Paint by numbers

Is that what you want?

Is that what the School of Art and Design

Is all about

Providing a template

a formula

for what it is to be an artist

How could they possible know

 

 

 

 

My friend asked

Isn’t it painful to be anti-American?

I was born there

and have described myself thus

No, I answer

Being anti-American

Anti the political establishment

based on corruption and control

meant I could expand my humanity

I could join with people on the margins

The “outliers” according to the

American way of life

As dictated by the powerholders

And their media servants

Tucacas Venezuela Sunset, Cayo Medio, with Oil tanker

Our House is On Fire

by Malena and Beata Ernman, Svante and Greta Thunbert

Have you read this book? Wait – that’s not a good way to start a blog, because then maybe you think you should have already read it. I don’t mean that. I merely want to encourage you TO read it.

Our House is on Fire is mainly written by and in the voice of Greta Thunberg’s mother, Malena Ernman. The courage and honesty of a family dealing with a child with serious disorders documented in this book is sometimes overwhelming. The response of this family gives the reader confidence that whatever they might face in their own family, if they face it with love, thoughtfulness, respect, and compassion, it can be worked out.

The amount of trust the parents put in Greta when she got the idea of the school strike for climate made her work possible. Can all parents have so much trust? Maybe not, but we can be inspired.

Read this book.

Thank you.

End of March 2020

How to think about it.
Death in the time of pandemic.
How to trace each life each death.
How to think about how we are connected or not.

What about the grandmother whose daughter and toddler son are living with her. The daughter moves out. Not wanting to infect her mother. She returns to an unloving relationship. Her chosen alternative to not infect her mother who has a heart condition making her more susceptible to the virus.

What about the 80 years old plus neighbor. She was recently in hospital for multiple problems following a botched colonoscopy. She doesn’t answer her phone. Her son lives nearby but he is a ranger coping with the horrific scale of the destruction of the recent bushfires. Trying to preserve some habitat for the remaining animals. At the same time trying to preserve the life of his fragile mother.

What about the mature age student just entering the school of art and design? A struggle after years of trying this, failing at that, to realize he has a talent for art. He is a creative human being. Finally he found a place, but the pandemic dissolved that place. Shredded.

What about the guy with a wife who has an immune deficiency disorder? He orders food online, delivered to his house. Then he waits two days before he brings it inside. Death by packaging. Can the virus live that long on packages?

What about the journalist whose children never thought much of his work until
they saw him parodied on TikTok? How can a social media video app developed in China bring the reality of his work to his home life in Australia?

What about it?
How do you think about it ?

Bette Hutchison Silver with her nephew Lawrence Andre

Across continents

Across time

Across consciousness

Across memory

 

Today

your birthday

in Australia

where I live

Tuesday 10 March

but not yet in

the USA

where you were born

10 March 1922

in Joplin Missouri

 

Connecting with you

Connecting with family

Opening up

Softening

Listening

Remembering

Missing you

 

Happy Birthday

Bette

Sorry friends. I have not posted anything on this blog for some time. We have been preoccupied here in Australia with bushfires and extreme climate events.  Global heating is real.  Climate emergency is here.

I wrote three short poems in the haze of bush fires.  You can read them on my other blog www.familyandfiction.com , which is about the novel I wrote (to be published soon), about my father W. Lon Hutchison, Tracking the Human: nobody’s a long time. 

Here’s a poem about family.

All Together

The sting of grief

rising up

through my body

burning my eyes

crying without tears

thinking of my mother

Did I betray her?

Was I there for her?

I am not grieving

I am connecting

Dead or alive

She is here

through my blog

through the wind sculpture

dedicated to her

through everyone

who remembers her

Her family she described

as dysfunctional

is a family

well documented

by me

A blog for my mum

A blog for a novel about my father

A book of poems and sketches

Keeping us all together

Myself, my mother, my brother Lon on the beach in Mazatlan, Mexico

 

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