Monday, February 15, 2010

Letter to Peter Minter

Dear Pete
we met once in the Blue Mountains. I was playing a blue guitar at Echo Point, surviving on gold coin donations from an endless stream of Japanese tourists while playing John Martyn songs. You were wrapped in a poor imitation of a Burberry and muttering something about Black Sabbath. Those were the days. Remember how, when I mentioned the name Richard Neville a currawong set itself on fire?
I have just received news that you have been corresponding with the Red K. This is bleak news. This man survives on the skins of lemons and treachery. I hear that you are giving a paper and reading poems at the Poetry & Tracery conference in Melbourne. We are going to distrupt the conference with recordings of whitebait being torn to shreds by Spanish Mackerel, and take you on a fishing holiday to Yanco Creek, in the Riverina, where the water rats quote James Dickey and the Waggas migrate from dam to dam. Common sense will prevail!
Your distant acquaintance
Connor Furze

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