Day 10 – not the sort of guests you want sharing your picnic blanket

Another topic crossed off the list. Third of the way through, really feel like I’m smashing this NaPoWriMo. (Car crash to follow soon…)

After seeing 100’s of these little critters over the farm all summer, I’ve finally been able to give them a poetic shout out.


6 short poems about Myrmecia forficata 
(inch ants)

1. The Scientific
100, 000, 000 years
of evolutionary simplicity
single chromosome pair
lowest count of any creature
cousin to bees & wasps
— endemic to Australia

2. The Philosophic
furious will to live
— as proven by sadistic
philosophers who cut
them in two in order
to activate individual
head v tail fight clubs

3. The Metaphoric
with its blown glass abdomen
it’s a brown bloodred pin
on steroids ; a segmented
chitin tank ; shiny obsidian
suit of armour ; a spinning
exoskeleton compass — complete
with scissors & a ringmaster’s moustache

4. The Literal
technically should
be called 25.4mm ants
owing to our metrication
— but it doesn’t have
the same zing to it

5. The Unusual
their well-developed vision
means they can follow
intruders from a metre off
— try hiking in the bush
knowing inch ants
could be stalking you

6. The Personal
pincers pinch the skin
worse than when
your sister caught
a piece of your cheek
between her strong nails
during a childhood brawl

it was long ago that fight
& though you’ve forgotten
what it was about
you can still feel
that slapsting as sharp
as yesterday

— the inch ant bite
is worse than that



Day 6 – back to the list

Now that Easter is out of the way, I can return to the worklist. While having an outlet for exploring one’s grief is healing; it is very liberating to have other topics to dive into.


what’ve you been doing with yourself…

…  i find i’m often being asked
how to answer without offending
i read  i write  i think  i live
walk the dog  avoid paying bills
eat bad food  drink better wine
daydream  am as happy as i can be
if i was smarter & could think deeper
thoughts  i might be a philosopher
(despite being equally poorly paid)

lose myself thinking about simple things

the stars  light  time  bees  mist
rain  loss  loneliness  the nature
of goodness  paths taken & not
being buzzed  storms  souls  if angels
exist  & if they do  what they do
& why  whether justice can ever
come if everything just is  the passing
of the small  utopias  dystopias  ways
of killing the rich … to feed the poor



NB without wishing to sound too much like a first world whinger, I look forward to getting back to the city with fast non-satellite broadband & a non-old computer that doesn’t freeze &/or crash 4 times in the last 45 minutes.