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Thylazine: The Australian Journal of Arts, Ethics & Literature                                                                                                                                    #3/thyla3k-jfk AUSTRALIAN POETS SERIES 3 The Poetry of Jayne Fenton Keane Selected by Coral Hull [Above] Photo of Jayne Fenton Keane by photographer unknown, 2001. I Definition I Hope I The Garden I Adam I The Garden Spirit Speaks I Comfort Women: Sex slaves for Japanese soldiers I Definition 1 - threads of shed pine      a carpet for lovers      off the walkway      a small white dog      with a patch over its eye      steals their clothes      and runs into the sea. 2 - broad shouldered lifeguards      pass the binoculars      and stroke their cocks      lost in the current      the drowning are not very good      at speaking english 3 - what is kali thinking      as she prepares for a water birth      outside the swim between the flags notice      she dares the tides      to flush out her womb      but her gaze is growing fins      and not even neptune      would dare gut her 4 - it is not supposed to be cold here      the rain in paradise is supposed to be      tanned, blonde      and full of legs 5 - the homeless sleep      with a pillow of beach      there is so much salt / rhythm / music      it is impossible not to      dream the big dream 6 - skeletal bikini woman      feeds meters with her youth      free photo opportunity for tourists      a free ride for them      the locals driven out by traffic      and their refusal to learn japanese 7 - it is fundamentally boring      to visit this cultural void      unless you like golf      strippers, piss ups and getting laid 8 - alone with the waves at dawn      lost in tubes of ocean      you are reborn every morning 10 - poised above the vortex      do not dive warnings      ignored      a cave of sleeping glow worms      a grotto of icy blue      dive dive dive      echo the worms and sinister friends Published in Torn (Plateau Press, 2000). Hope I take to you as headland shelters inlet as rain is drawn to earth as rain is pulled through leaf to sky. As earth surrenders to rain I yield to you through prayer and breath I yield to your tantra and its text. I take to you as estuary shelters fish as host grows nourishment for its symbiont as epiphyte grows but does not need. As tree supports epiphyte I serve your structure with fluid and blood I serve your compassion and your wisdom. I take to you as canopy shelters wildlife as light reveals epiphany through its spectrum as light chases surface to prove it exists. Published in from Torn (Plateau Press, 2000) The Garden (Excerpt from Retro Eden Nineties Style) The garden was like a generous lover, snapping off bits of soul. In the end it was conquered by its own generosity, and now it looks like nothing but a ravaged drunken tart.                                                          Journalist A desert of asphalt shimmers around a hub of remnant vegetation. A mirage of bones and ancestry hovers on black-caked dunes of heat. Stale fermented passionflower steeps the atmosphere. The garden combs its long flowing tendrils into coils and waits for its seducer to return with a knife. A posse of bulldozers surrounds the garden in a glittering haze of tar. At the first gash it startles in a rage of psychotic colour. It throws its tendrils like childish lassoes, and tears at the machines like an outraged witch. But the bulldozers, symmetrical as beads, press evenly on its verdant flesh. A smouldering stack marks the garden's cremation.       A 'For Sale' sign strikes the conquest deep. Adam (Excerpt from Retro Eden Nineties Style)       Adam is like a giant descending from the sky, as he fi fi fo fumms about dips in the exchange rate and about clouds blocking the view, as he clambers ungraciously down a concrete beanstalk, with his finger on one small green dot of pulse In his ecosystem the fittest live in the most luxurious well appointed caves where businessmen meet for lunch and lap dancing. There is a girl whose pelvis is so remote that it reminds Adam of his childhood toys, except this time the controls are tweaked by cash Adam watches a beautiful yet appalling pair of buttocks, flap like canary wings against a grille of customer-laps. A man tries to sneak a finger through a G-string mistaking a dab of KY jelly for natural lubrication. He's tired. His ribs ache. He longs to get home to his modem, in case today is the day love will come down the chat line and burn his loneliness out. The Garden Spirit Speaks (Excerpt from Retro Eden Nineties Style) I am dirt canvas painted with bones tattooed with sinewy wreaths of trees. My skin is a memory of topsoil where urban shadows creep and a chain of numeracy clear-fells all landscapes. I have seeded the earth with fissures of my skull watched the world grow sick with algebra as it spins on an axis of obtuse translations, that spill like commandments from a calculator god. There is no use telling me to forgive or love for that is the destiny of wind. I will not be drawn into the myth of such a narrative - that would have me dream myself alive in a sultry infectious night where I would lift up my dirt-canvas skirt to go line dancing in a scar of dust. My revenge will be sweet. My victory irrefutable. I have conspired with many natural villains. Look out for the rhizomes spliced with opiates. For the resistant disgruntled microbes that crawl on your skin. Look out for the toxins in brilliant bouquets and for holes in the atmosphere that will burn out your eyes. Listen carefully for the silence that will mark your decay for I have withdrawn my medicines. Comfort Women: Sex slaves for Japanese soldiers 1932-1945 - occupied territories                             You smell of insincerity                             bitter cat piss breath                             swirling in promises                             made of erections                             and this is solidarity                             a kind of solidarity                             I never expected to know. 200,000 drafted cunts (80% Korean)                             Heaviness                             in the pillow of my stomach                             where so many of you                             rest your heads                             You lay me down                             comfort woman                             worn out welcome mat                             as my eyes turn into buzzers                             with the gloss worn off                             from too many fingers                             pushing. between ages 11-32                             My wedding finger itches                             when you meet me                             to talk about yourself                             and your family.                             I have learned to listen                             as my bruises darken                             and I try to remember                             not to insist myself in the spaces                             you occasionally leave.                             But I forget                             this service is an animal's job                             to you and tomorrow                             I will hover above myself                             and watch trenches of you                             advance again cataracts                             I try to burn you out                             stare so hard at the sun                             as you fuck me                             stare so hard                             stare so hard at the sun                             as you fuck me. About the Poet Jayne Fenton Keane Jayne Fenton Keane is an experimental poet who extends her poetic practice beyond the page. This includes producing CDs, websites and performances in addition to writing manuscripts. JFK has conducted poetry workshops at secondary, tertiary and community levels and has featured at a number of festivals. Jayne Fenton Keane has been a recipient of a Varuna Writers' Centre Fellowship and radio playwriting mentorship and she was offered a fellowship. In addition to writing manuscripts, experimenting with soundscapes and developing her website, JFK has maintained an interest in embodiment of texts on the stage. She has featured at the Australian Poetry Festival, Queensland Poetry Festival, Brisbane Writers' Festival, Seattle Arts festival, the Detroit Literary Festival, the Festival of the Imagination in New Orleans, and Wordstock, a spoken word festival in New York. She has been broadcast on national and international television and radio, and is currently studying for her Honours degree in Creative Arts at Griffith University on the Gold Coast. Jayne received a grant from Arts Queensland, to support the writing of her next manuscript.    [Above] Photo of Jayne Fenton Keane by photographer unknown, 2001. I Next I Back I Exit I Thylazine No.3 (March, 2001)