the bleed
By Dakota Feirer
Published 27 July 2026
nested in the hollows of a long silence
birdsong lament the felled
singing new growth
a world kept alive
one whip and bell at a time
wobbling hands of the dead
reaching from the back
of a tawny
throat
warm
rattling of wattle
clapsticks
in the glove box
4WD bites dirt road
loose stones shifting under foot
wet leaves slow-burning
warm coals poured into a river
a certain static bleeds
into the soul
of earth lilting into ocean
of summer rain on tin roofs
a love enclosed in swag zippers
in the distance: the charge of two boomerangs
wailing from Brooklyn bridge
sea shells in glass jars
shattering on a staircase
a homesick-scream underwater
another ‘call ended’ tone
another sad face planted in the pillow
Toggle the world’s soundboard, playing with pitch, tone and bass. Dim the loud spots, zoom in on muffled parts, enhance the blemishes, sample the songs of the world, reveal a muted symphony.
Dakota Feirer
#30in30 #PoetryMonth
Some of the context behind the poem 'the bleed' that I wrote for 30in30 to the Poem Forest theme for this year, which is 'Sounds of Country' — it's somewhat of a mosaic of sounds that come to mind when I think of that theme, or certain relationships that come to mind when I think about the sort of sounds or vibrations or patterns that linger with me, not only when I'm on Country, but when I'm off Country. And Country shows up in all different sorts of places and the poem tries to capture that ubiquitousness of Country. Everywhere we go, we're on Country, and everywhere we go, we've been shaped by Country, by those sounds, those vibrations, those totems, those moments. So whether those moments be happy, sad, neutral, I think Country has a place for all of those feelings and sounds and vibrations, and that's what I've tried to capture in 'the bleed'.
