The Ink Pods. Literary Podcast for The Blue Nib.

Poet, James Walton reads his own work, 'A Dairy Hand On a Hill'

June 28, 2020 Various
The Ink Pods. Literary Podcast for The Blue Nib.
Poet, James Walton reads his own work, 'A Dairy Hand On a Hill'
Chapters
The Ink Pods. Literary Podcast for The Blue Nib.
Poet, James Walton reads his own work, 'A Dairy Hand On a Hill'
Jun 28, 2020
Various

James Walton is published in many anthologies, journals, and newspapers. He is the author of four widely acclaimed collections of poetry. ‘The Leviathan’s Apprentice’, ‘Walking Through Fences’, ‘Unstill Mosaics’, and ‘Abandoned Soliloquies’. His fifth collection will be released shortly.

A Dairy Hand On a Hill


I milked a season

in the high range near Timboon

for a Bavarian named Rudi,


who built a Black Forest house

out of place against eucalypts

like those old special effects,


a wobbly head stuck on the wrong body

land so fat the kelpies

pretended to bring the cows in,


spent their time fossicking 

in earth as black as truffle

then red in deep Shiraz.


His daughter would say

‘Look the Sky pours into the Sea’

and that she didn’t love me,


was going back to Germany

so tanned she’d vanish in a paddock

I had to look close to catch,


an auburn dancing shimmer

she drifted in light then flew by

left me a demijohn stranded,


a becalmed catamaran

but sometimes she wrapped me in Sienna

just for a while’ You’re my Man’.


Support the show (https://thebluenib.com/donation/)

Show Notes

James Walton is published in many anthologies, journals, and newspapers. He is the author of four widely acclaimed collections of poetry. ‘The Leviathan’s Apprentice’, ‘Walking Through Fences’, ‘Unstill Mosaics’, and ‘Abandoned Soliloquies’. His fifth collection will be released shortly.

A Dairy Hand On a Hill


I milked a season

in the high range near Timboon

for a Bavarian named Rudi,


who built a Black Forest house

out of place against eucalypts

like those old special effects,


a wobbly head stuck on the wrong body

land so fat the kelpies

pretended to bring the cows in,


spent their time fossicking 

in earth as black as truffle

then red in deep Shiraz.


His daughter would say

‘Look the Sky pours into the Sea’

and that she didn’t love me,


was going back to Germany

so tanned she’d vanish in a paddock

I had to look close to catch,


an auburn dancing shimmer

she drifted in light then flew by

left me a demijohn stranded,


a becalmed catamaran

but sometimes she wrapped me in Sienna

just for a while’ You’re my Man’.


Support the show (https://thebluenib.com/donation/)