August 2nd, 2025Local Lines

Field Notes – (Not quite Poetry)

You write poems disguised as emails.
I write dispatches from the dripping edge –
roof leaks, radiator clamps, surf forecasts.
Still, I read you.

Sometimes your words come in
on a different frequency,
one I catch late,
like a faint station just past the static.

But once it’s there – it stays.
You send the ache and the light.
I send the shape of the day
held together with cable ties.

It’s not poetry.
But it’s not nothing.

I don’t always hold the thread like you.
But I haven’t let it go.

There’s a stretch of beaches here –
unnamed on the maps. Somewhere between
the storm and the calm that follows,
maybe we meet there.

You with your metaphors,
me with my toolbox.
Bring a pen.
I’ll bring the duct tape.

Crido writes poetry on the land of the Dja Dja Warrung people where story telling is part of the landscape.

Local Lines features poetry by locals about local and any other matters.
Please submit poems to Bill Wootton at cottlesbreedge@gmail.com