# 1
You have been here before. Observer of light,
you know cycles of bust and boom as grasshopper
plague; a twig-like season of woody legs and nutty interior
before the dust eddies of drought. Tracker of rain, of fire,
we find you walking scorched inky floors of dirt, shucking
new shoots and venturesome lizards at the restaurant of the bold,
remembering days when you too were in the pot. A bird of few
words, you prefer to scrutinize, study the day’s narrative,
make quiet retreat. Unless, of course, you’re headed
to the lek – to shake, sing, and perform your ‘boom boom
baby let’s go back to my room’ inflated throat sac of song.
You know how to unshackle that uptight cool.
After the party’s always the same. You head out to the road,
inhale the emptiness. Curious to see the oncoming traffic.
# 2
if passage were a ribbon this bird has thread
a slow plains undulation itinerant pathways
of distance scientists observe disturbance
‘a declining trend’ the fine graphite sketch mark
vermiculate plumage tracking a down turn and irregular
seasons lessening dots on the map more scatter
than graph his guttural lovesong sounding wired
frequencies binding the bustard wandering
shagpiles of tussock its crop full two beetles
small lizards seeds of grass and a rumour of opals
a survey of desert uplands this morning’s design
Image: Alison Clouston, “Australian Bustard on the Road to Bimblebox,” 2014
Digital print and block print on cotton rag paper, 29.7 x 21 cm, titled, signed and dated on reverse side, edition of 6
Photo by the artist © Alison Clouston, 2014
Chorus 32:
Jim Moginie, Peter Dasent, Paul Cutlan, Gregory McKlaren, Kelly Keating, Bonnie Hart, Louise Nutting, David George
Composition by Boyd