Road 602
the river speaks of longing
for the sea
and in equal parts
the open woodlands
where it began
here in karris
river ripples and reflections
turn twisted bark
into carousel poles
I step from the bank
feel the river pass its longing to me
for water which has passed
water to come
floating in iced tea river
which I must not drink
without boiling
sensation ebbs
from fingers and toes
in touch against my skin
the river talks to me
of longing
Broomehill Kojonup Road
The Gordon is a tributary of the Frankland
it is birthed west of Broomehill
south of three wells
one culvert crossing
same as any other
an old map is needed
no road signs for river
parrot breast feather
a marking
calls of flying things
twenty eights, galahs, wattlebirds
closer
blowflies, bees
common brown butterflies
below a deserted farm
treeline shades teardrop pools
this is the Gordon
here the river is beyond longing
it only speaks of loss
Brassey road
line of water
scraped pink salt scalds
more culverts, no names
trees, tree skeletons
it could be called a rivulet
if it were flowing
Chillicup road
flowing water
channelled through culverts
wandoo and sheoak
foot prints of birds on river sand
seen through a clear salt stream
Peringillup west road
water pools and flows
wide flood plain, now salty swamp
signs warn of floodway
but give the river no name
further east as waters track
Boyupbrook Cranbrook road
the Gordon becomes
Kwakoorillup
on backroads
I cannot find it
I track wetlands, treelines
imagine I am water
following low lying land
then I am on the bridge
Riversdale Brook Frankland River
here at home in trees
white froth and sparkle
before Nornalup inlet
karris and tingles backdrop
bonsaied paperbarks
water moves at winds’ demands
breaks in a heartbeat
on tree roots and sedges
hours by the river
in words and memory
become their own story
water always knows its path.
the river speaks of longing
for the sea
and in equal parts
the open woodlands
where it began
here in karris
river ripples and reflections
turn twisted bark
into carousel poles
I step from the bank
feel the river pass its longing to me
for water which has passed
water to come
floating in iced tea river
which I must not drink
without boiling
sensation ebbs
from fingers and toes
in touch against my skin
the river talks to me
of longing
Broomehill Kojonup Road
The Gordon is a tributary of the Frankland
it is birthed west of Broomehill
south of three wells
one culvert crossing
same as any other
an old map is needed
no road signs for river
parrot breast feather
a marking
calls of flying things
twenty eights, galahs, wattlebirds
closer
blowflies, bees
common brown butterflies
below a deserted farm
treeline shades teardrop pools
this is the Gordon
here the river is beyond longing
it only speaks of loss
Brassey road
line of water
scraped pink salt scalds
more culverts, no names
trees, tree skeletons
it could be called a rivulet
if it were flowing
Chillicup road
flowing water
channelled through culverts
wandoo and sheoak
foot prints of birds on river sand
seen through a clear salt stream
Peringillup west road
water pools and flows
wide flood plain, now salty swamp
signs warn of floodway
but give the river no name
further east as waters track
Boyupbrook Cranbrook road
the Gordon becomes
Kwakoorillup
on backroads
I cannot find it
I track wetlands, treelines
imagine I am water
following low lying land
then I am on the bridge
Riversdale Brook Frankland River
here at home in trees
white froth and sparkle
before Nornalup inlet
karris and tingles backdrop
bonsaied paperbarks
water moves at winds’ demands
breaks in a heartbeat
on tree roots and sedges
hours by the river
in words and memory
become their own story
water always knows its path.
Written & Spoken by Maree Dawes
Sound Design and Music by Marianthe Loucataris
Sound Design and Music by Marianthe Loucataris
Images by Maree Dawes
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