One of the poems I read while at Broken Hill last week:

Driving back to where
My home lies in darkness
I feel it all shift around me,
This other world, this night world,
So different from the day, spent
In the company of those who fear darkness.


I feel my poet wings descend
As the streetlamps tease out my buried heart
I laugh as the cold wind hits my face
And for a moment, between worlds,
Wonder what this is, and why, and how to explain it
To anyone other than poets.