Lost all the colours of
          my imagination,
can't visualise an epic scene,
          Sheets of grey, instead of
          fields of green
the Underworld is only seismic
           rock -
instead of Kingdoms of the
          Dead, and
          weeping souls enlocked;
instead of necromantic shrines
           and huge man eating dogs;
only seismic rock.

And sometimes
          you are not quite in my arms
and our passion is a dying bird
a vanishing paradise
and I rub my blood-shot eyes
           and dream of turbulence
           and big-eyed witches
and incense, and dark-skinned
           women, and madness

And then I make to go,
          and straightway seized
          straightway, torn asunder
          thumped between the temples
cracked upon the spine
          You
           have left already.

My name is Ian Irvine, I am an Australian poet, writer, academic and part time psychotherapist who has lived in NZ, the US, and the UK. I've had many poems, short stories and essays published about the place, most recently by The Antigonish Review, Cougar Webworks, Lotus Magazine, Parabola, Flies on the Ceiling, Grepoetry, Gravitas 22 and Ozlit.

I am also editor of The Animist and The Asphodel Centre.html  at http://www.diskotech.com.au/asphodel which is (we like to think) one of Australia's leading literary e-journals. I have just completed a PhD - a version of which is currently doing the rounds of publishing houses and I'm also trying to get a novel, a play and a MM poetry CD-Rom published. In former incarnations I was an alternative rock singer/songwriter and I taught history, literature, sociology and mythology at La Trobe University.

You can email your comments to Ian at: asphodel@iaccess.com.au

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