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Monday, December 31, 2007

Gibb River Station



Multilingual birds sing
over dry leaf maracas
on a sunburnt land. See them
bad-bugger Brahmin bulls at it –
dry creek, no tucker.
Red cloud rises
but no stockmen see. They’re
in Derby on the piss. Home alone,
law lady Maudie lies in bed, Gnarnygin
stories in her head: After the mob left
Wandjina came and turned that snake
into stone.
I leave my desk
to walk and think.

The Kimberley text
is in shadow play, today:
outcrop and gorge, red dirt polyglossia
of crow claw, roo paw and grader wheels.
Signs and the dignified signified
clear in my head to sing
the thisness of all things

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Saturday, December 29, 2007

Poet of the Year: John Ashbery


At this time of year, the media seems to delight in appointing the Best of the Year in almost everything. Not to be outdone, poet Edward Byrne has declared John Ashbery 'Poet of the Year', a choice that is not surprising. As a poet, Ashbery perplexes many but at the same time mesmerises more.

Take a look at the full article at http://edwardbyrne.blogspot.com/2007/12/poet-of-year-john-ashbery.html

That article, or posting, mentions a Marjorie Perloff review of Ashbery's latest Selected which makes great reading at http://www.bookforum.com/inprint/014_04/1378

Submission call

Poetry Sz:demystifying mental illness
http://poetrysz.blogspot.com is
calling for submissions for its 25th issue.

Send 4-6 poems and a short bio in the body of your
email to poetrysz@yahoo.com


Please read the submission guidelines first before
submitting.

Thanks.

J Chan
editor

John Lennon says ...

"Reality leaves a lot to the imagination."

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Oscar Peterson RIP



Oscar Emmanuel Peterson
August 25 1925 - December 23 2007


Oscar's wife and daughter have posted a message at http://oscarpeterson.com

'In 2004 The Late Niels Henning Orsted Pedersen suggested that Oscar write lyrics to "When Summer Comes". In 2005 when Niels passed away, Oscar persued this and asked Elvis Costello to write lyrics. On Oscar's 80th Birthday event, Diana Krall sang the lyrics that Elvis wrote. Oscar loved the lyrics, and we thought it would be fitting to have them here for others to enjoy.'


When Summer Comes
Music by Oscar Peterson
Lyrics by Elvis Costello
Originally Performed by Diana Krall


The land was white
While the winter moon as absent from the night
And the blackness only pierced by far off stars
But as every day still succeeds the darkest moments we have known
When season turn
Springtime colours will return
And as the first pale flowers of the lengthening hours
Seem to brighten the twilight and that melancholy cloak
Then a fresh perfume just seems to burst from each bloom
Until the green shoots through each day
As it arrives in every shade of hope
When Summer Comes
There will be a dream of peace
And a breath that I've held so long that I can barely release
Then perhaps I may even find a room somewhere
Just a place I can still speak to you

Monday, December 24, 2007

Ho-ho-hum ...



Merry Christmas to you all ...

This is a very hot Christmas period down here - 38 Celsius for Christmas Day and a threatened 40 degrees for Boxing Day. As my wife, today's Mrs Malaprop, said recently, trying to be jolly, Ho-hum ... Christmas.

I found the imaginative Christmas tree photographed above at the Guildford Markets a week ago, just after we arrived back in Perth. It is constructed out of corrugated iron, a reminder of our many hours on 'corrugation road', the Gibb River Road of The Kimberley.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Creeley Lives!



In this fast growing but ultimately isolated city, Perth, poetry CDs are a rare item in mainstream shops. In this city's suburb of Mt Lawley there is a very popular video store Planet Video which has expanded vigorously in past years and now sports CD sales, DVD sales, and Planet Books, which has perhaps the best poetry selection of any bookstore in Perth.

Long story short, I was in there yesterday, doing some last minute Christmas shopping, when I stumbled across the above CD - Robert Creeley with Steve Swallow. Of course, there isn't enough Creeley for my taste, but he was a minimalist poet, so I suppose a minimal amount of poetry spoken in Creeley's unique style would represent his work well.

I once had the honour of spending time with Creeley here in Perth, and heard him read. He was a generous man with his time and with his information, so this CD brings back great memories for me, besides being a great enforcer of the tone of his poems in The Collected Poems of RC which I have from the University of California Press, 1982.

Here is a short quote from the end of a review in All About Jazz http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=23904 which expresses my basic reaction to this CD:

Poets look askance (as did Shelley all that time ago in “Ozymandias”) at claims regarding the permanence of human creation. Perhaps; but on this record, Robert Creeley is still speaking, and thanks to Swallow’s musical contribution, we can hear him a little better than we otherwise might.



Tracks: Oh No; Names; Here Again; Ambition; Indians; From Histoire De Florida; Sufi Sam Christian; Later; From Wellington, New Zealand / From Eight Plus; Miles; Just In Time; Return; Echo; Sad Advice; Riddle; Blue Moon; I Know A Man; A Valentine For Pen.


Personnel: Steve Swallow: bass; Robert Creeley: voice; Steve Kuhn: piano; The Cikada String Quartet: Henrik Hannisdal: violin; Odd Hannisdal: violin; Marek Konstantynowicz: viola; Morten Hannisdal: cello.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

from CompleteClassics.com, a poem by Vasko Popa

In The Village Of My Ancestors


Someone embraces me
Someone looks at me with the eyes of a wolf
Someone takes off his hat
So I can see him better

Everyone asks me
Do you know how I'm related to you

Unknown old men and women
Appropriate the names
Of young men and women from my memory

I ask one of them
Tell me for God's sake
Is George the Wolf still living

That's me he answers
With a voice from the next world

I touch his cheek with my hand
And beg him with my eyes
To tell me if I'm living too

Vasko Popa

Monday, December 17, 2007

Alhambra Poetry Calendar 2008

"The works in the Poetry Calendar – as diverse and distinctive a gathering of voices as can be imagined – offer a way to begin each day newly awakened, newly convinced that words are not the end of thought, they are where it begins."Jane Hirshfield

A surprise-desk calendar and a poetry anthology in one, the beautifully designed and presented Alhambra Poetry Calendar 2008 contains 366 poems by 340 poets. Meant for your desktop or bedside table, the calendar showcases work by some of the best American, British, Canadian, Australian, and Irish poets from the 14th to the 21st century. Poetry calendars are also available in French, German, Italian, and Spanish.

Did I say I loved this idea before? Ah, the list of poets contributing includes lots of Australians. Great idea. Perhaps an Aussie publisher should do an Australian desktop calendar for 2009. I'll be the editor ...

For more details, http://www.alhambrapublishing.com/

PETER ABBS MARY ADAMS DAN ALBERGOTTI PAMELA ALEXANDER DICK ALLEN L. N. ALLEN MONIZA ALVI DONALD ANDERSON NIN ANDREWSANONYMOUS TALVIKKI ANSEL ALAN ANSEN DAVID BAKER CHRISTIANNE BALK MARY JO BANG ELLEN BASS DEREK BEAULIEU JEANNE MARIE BEAUMONT JACK B. BEDELL MARVIN BELL CHARLES BERNSTEIN JILL BIALOSKY LINDA BIERDS DAVID BIESPIEL WILLIAM BLAKE ROBERT BLY MICHELLE BOISSEAU CHRISTIAN BÖK EAVAN BOLAND STEPHANIE BOLSTER BRUCE BOND MARIANNE BORUCH GEORGE BOWERING CATHY SMITH BOWERS GEORGE BRADLEY DIONNE BRAND SUSAN BRIANTE GEOFFREY BROCK PATRICIA BRODY CATHARINE SAVAGE BROSMAN JOEL BROUWER DEBORAH BROWN ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ROBERT BROWNING ANDREA HOLLANDER BUDY KATHRYN STRIPLING BYER GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON PETER CAMPION NICK CARBO LEWIS CARROLL CATHERINE CARTER JOHN CLARE GEORGE ELLIOTT CLARKE SUZANNE CLEARY ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH BILLY COLLINS MARTHA COLLINS DAVID CONSTANTINE PETER COOLEY ROBERT CORDING PETER COVINO ABRAHAM COWLEY CHRIS WALLACE CRABBE KEVIN CRAFT STEVEN CRAMER HART CRANE ROBERT CRAWFORD ALISON CROGGON LORNA CROZIER DEBORAH CUMMINS JAMES CUMMINSAVERILL CURDY CHARLES D’ORLÉANS MARY DALTON CORTNEY DAVIS GREG DELANTY EMILY DICKINSON MAGGIE DIETZ FRED DINGS GREGORY DJANIKIAN BERNARD DONOGHUE JANE DRAYCOTT MICHAEL DRAYTON JOSEPH DUEMER SASHA DUGDALE DENISE DUHAMEL ANTONY DUNN STUART DYBEK CORNELIUS EADY THOMAS SAYERS ELLIS CLAUDIA EMERSONLANDIS EVERSON HELEN FARISH JULIE FAYBETH ANN FENNELLY EDWARD FIELD LEONTIA FLYNN CARLOYN FORCHÉ CHRIS FORHAN ALICE FRIMAN CAROL FROST JOHN FULLER ALICE FULTON ERICA FUNKHOUSER BRENDAN GALVIN CHRISTINE GARREN DOREEN GILDROY MARIA MAZZIOTTI GILLAN DANA GIOIA RAY GONZALEZ CHARMAINE GREEN JIM GREENHALF LINDA GREGERSON EAMON GRENNAN WILLIAM HABINGTON MARILYN HACKER RACHEL HADAS MARIAN HADDAD DANIEL HALL BARBARA HAMBY SAM HAMILL SOPHIE HANNAH THOMAS HARDY JAMES HARMS MICHAEL S. HARPER JEFFREY HARRISON LOLA HASKINS DOLORES HAYDEN JENNIFER MICHAEL HECHT MICHAEL HEFFERNAN JOHN HENNESSY DAVID HERNANDEZ ROBERT HERRICK BOB HICOK TOBIAS HILL BRENDA HILLMANEDWARD HIRSCH JANE HIRSHFIELD H. L. HIX TONY HOAGLAND JOHN HOLLANDER STEPHEN HOLT THOMAS HOOD GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS JOHN HOPPENTHALER A. E. HOUSMANCHRISTOPHER HOWELL ANDREW HUDGINS MAJOR JACKSON MARK JARMAN PETER JOHNSON LIBBY FALK JONES BEN JONSON ALLISON JOSEPHMARILYN KALLET PAUL KANE MARTHA KAPOS KATIA KAPOVICH JOHN KEATS BRIGIT PAGEEN KELLY ROBERT KELLY X. J. KENNEDY JESSE LEE KERCHEVAL MIMI KHALVATIWAQAS KHWAJA JOHN KINSELLA SUSAN KINSOLVING RUDYARD KIPLING DAVID KIRBYKARL KIRCHWEY AUGUST KLEINZAHLER JOHN KOETHE SONNET L’ABBÉ DEBORAH LANDAU PATRICK LANE DORIANNE LAUX D. H. LAWRENCEBRONWYN LEA DAVID LEHMAN PHILLIS LEVIN PHILIP LEVINE TIM LIARDET WILLIAM LOGAN HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SUSAN LUDVIGSON THOMAS LUX KATHLEEN LYNCH JOANIE MACKOWSKI SARAH MANGUSO RANDALL MANN KATHRYN MARIS DAVID MASON HAROLD MASSINGHAM BEN MAZER GAIL MAZUR J. D. McCLATCHY GARDNER McFALL DEBORAH McGILL JAMIE McKENDRICK BOB McKENTY ANDREW McNEILLIE JOSHUA MEHIGAN HERMAN MELVILLEROBERT MINHINNICK LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU ESTHER MORGAN ANDREW MOTION ERIN MOURÉ SIMONE MUENCH PAUL MULDOON GEORGE MURRAY LES MURRAY CAROL MUSKE-DUKES DALJIT NAGRA RICHARD NEWMAN AIMEE NEZHUKUMATATHIL PHILIP NIKOLAYEV EDWARD NOBLES JEAN NORDHAUS KATE NORTHROP D. NURKSE NAOMI SHIHAB NYE GEOFFREY O’BRIEN KEVIN O’CONNOR STEVE ORLEN GREGORY S. ORR JACQUELINE OSHEROW ALICIA OSTRIKER GEOFF PAGE ERIC PANKEY JAY PARINI ALAN MICHAEL PARKER ELISE PARTRIDGE EMANUEL DI PASQUALE LINDA PASTAN COVENTRY PATMORE OLIVER DE LA PAZ MOLLY PEACOCK PASCALE PETIT CARL PHILLIPS ROBERT PINSKY DONALD PLATT STANLEY PLUMLY JACOB POLLEY JACQUELYN POPE CHRISTINA PUGH SARA QUEYRAS LAWRENCE RAAB SIR WALTER RALEGH JOHN REDMOND DERYN REES-JONES FRANKLIN REEVE PAISLEY REKDAL BETSY RETALLACK JAMES RICHARDSON ATSURO RILEY MAURICE RIORDAN DAVID RIVARD ROBIN ROBERTSON DAVID RODERICK PATRICK ROSAL LAURIE ROSENBLATT J. ALLYN ROSSER CHRISTINA ROSSETTI GIG RYAN KAY RYAN MICHAEL RYAN C. J. SAGE MICHAEL SALCMAN MARY JO SALTER EVA SALZMAN FIONA SAMPSON MARK SCHORR PENELOPE SCHOTT GRACE SCHULMAN LLOYD SCHWARTZ WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE RAVI SHANKAR DON SHARE PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY REGINALD SHEPHERD ANDREW SHIELDS VIVIAN SHIPLEY SIR PHILIP SIDNEY JEFFREY SKINNER FLOYD SKLOOT ALEX SKOVRON JOHN SKOYLES TOM SLEIGH BRUCE SMITH R. T. SMITH THOMAS R. SMITH W. D. SNODGRASS DAVID SOLWAY ELIZABETH SPIRES JEAN SPRACKLAND A. E. STALLINGS SUSAN STEWART DABNEY STUART VIRGIL SUAREZ GLADYS SWAN MATTHEW SWEENEY JONATHAN SWIFT GEORGE SZIRTES JAMES TATE ANDREW TAYLOR MARILYN TAYLOR ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON EDWARD THOMAS ADAM THORPE DANIEL TOBIN JOHN TRANTER NATASHA TRETHEWEY BRIAN TURNER CHASE TWICHELL SIDNEY WADE DAVID WAGONER SUE WALKER ROSANNA WARREN MICHAEL WATERS ELLEN DORÉ WATSON INGRID WENDT CARLOYN BEARD WHITLOW WALT WHITMAN SUSAN WICKS DARA WIER RICHARD WILBUR C. K. WILLIAMS JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER ELEANOR WILNER CHRISTIAN WIMAN TERENCE WINCH ANNE WINTERS TERRI WITEK WILLIAM WORDSWORTH CECILIA WOLOCH BARON WORMSER C. D. WRIGHT CHARLES WRIGHT FRANZ WRIGHT ROBERT WRIGLEY LADY MARY WROTH STEPHEN YENSER CHRYSS YOST C. DALE YOUNG DEAN YOUNG GARY YOUNG OUYANG YU

Brilliant Gallery


http://www.nytimes.com/library/photos/leibovitz/graham.html

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Save the Whales

www.whalesrevenge.com is trying to get a million people to sign a petition to stop whaling.

Tell as many people as you can about the website, that
would be a great help.

Remember to sign the petition.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

'Beowulf' the Movie


If you know the story of the book, if you like the sound of the original, if you value the tradition and history of this ancient of all English epic poems, then skip the latest film version. Maybe it is okay as a flick for action fans, but it is not okay as a true representation of the Beowulf tale.

Here's a bit of what the New York Times revieiwer had to say about it:

You don’t need to wait for Angelina Jolie to rise from the vaporous depths naked and dripping liquid gold to know that this “Beowulf” isn’t your high school teacher’s Old English epic poem. Ms. Jolie plays the bad girl in “Beowulf,” a wicked demon, the mother of all monsters — here, Grendel, played by Crispin Glover — who can switch from hag to fab in the wink of a serpentine eye. If you don’t remember this evil babe from the poem, it’s because she’s almost entirely the invention of the screenwriters Roger Avary and Neil Gaiman and the director Robert Zemeckis, who together have plumped her up in words, deeds and curves. These creative interventions aren’t especially surprising given the source material and the nature of big-studio adaptations. There’s plenty of action in “Beowulf,” but even its more vigorous bloodletting pales next to its rich language, exotic setting and mythic grandeur. — Manohla Dargis, The New York Times

Friday, December 14, 2007

The Door the poem - Now, the movie


http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=HL91uGhY3wo

My English friend Patrick McManus had a poem The Door in an anthology which someone in Amsterdam Library read - and made this charming movie out of. Move over Beowulf - here's another great epic to make the silver screen >g<

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

The Last Gibb River Supper


Mary Jane's


Ah, such a small gathering for our last supper together. It was at Sister Mary Jane's house - community nurse and a wonderful human being with a heart bigger than this planet. Tim Clear, principal of Wanalirri Catholic School up until this night, took over the carving. And little Pip, one of two Jack Russells owned by M J, wasn't going to miss out on the fun. There was thunder and lightning about, so Frank (the male JR) was safely tucked away in the closet. My wife Jeanette(pictured with MJ) and I were the other guests.

Sad to make such good friends and then have to leave them. MJ will be there at Gibb River Station all through The Wet, with a little break to see her family in Melbourne over Christmas. Tim will be with friends and family in Broome and Perth over the festive break, and Jen and I are back at home in Perth with our family and friends.

Panels from the Wanalirri Catholic School story hanging





I don't know that the story is mine to tell, but these are just some panels of the wonderful narrative in cloth on the wall at Wanalirri Catholic School where my wife Jeanette and I have just stopped teaching. It definitely qualifies as a remote community, stuck out there on the Gibb River Road a seven hour drive from Broome. & that's on a good day with the red dirt road flattened by a grader and no rain. Today Mt Elizabeth, a next door property, had the most rain in the last 24 hours in the state of Western Australia. The season known as The Wet is about to befall them all in The Kimberley which will make the Gibb River Road impassable and all airstrips closed once they are swamped. I wish my friends in that community well during this testing time where contact with the outside world is cut off and the community has to draw together to rely on its own scant resources.

New chapter for Meanjin literary magazine


from The Age, Melbourne's newspaper ...
Jason Steger
December 12, 2007

IF YOU ring the Carlton office of Meanjin a message says Ian Britain, the editor of the Melbourne literary magazine, is now available on a different number.

The message will disappear pretty soon, as will Britain, after a Melbourne University review of the 67-year-old magazine decided that it would be produced under the auspices — and in the offices of — Melbourne University Publishing.

The review was commissioned by university vice-chancellor Glyn Davis after a public wrangle between those who backed a plan for the administration and distribution of the magazine to be taken over by MUP and those who opposed it.

In May the Meanjin board accepted the proposal in a 4-3 vote, with MUP boss Louise Adler, a longtime board member, voting in favour and Britain voting against.

Britain, who is editing Meanjin's summer edition, a double issue to be published in February, said yesterday that he had not been informed of the outcome of the review and could not comment.

Among the review's recommendations are the creation of a charter of editorial independence; the winding up of the Meanjin Company; the establishment of an editorial advisory committee; and the appointment of a new editor.

Ms Adler said Meanjin would become an imprint of MUP. "It's a terrific partnership with a lot of opportunities for Meanjin for a safe berth as it moves into the 21st century."

She reiterated that there were no plans to make Meanjin an online publication. "I do think the first priority is to put the wonderful archives online. Meanjin needs an online presence but that doesn't undermine the print edition.

"While MUP still produces books there will be a print edition of Meanjin."

The review panel consisted of State Library chief executive Anne-Marie Schwirtlich, professor of Australian literature at Sydney University Robert Dixon, and RMIT publishing lecturer Michael Webster.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Within the System by Frederick Pollack

I remind myself not to be awed.
I can do something he can’t –
write – and was invited,
and am not the archetype that still,
beneath the prevailing academic blandness,
lurks and inspires: the drunken, mumbling,
wife-stealing poet. I’m an equal

except in assets. His assets
include the soaring ceiling, the hanging
halogen lamps that frame the arriving
guests like a production number
in a Sondheim, eight hundred feet
of books, and the bilious
gold and nervous umber

of a Braque of my favorite period:
recuperating from the head-wound … Plus
the spectacular wife, of whom the less said
the easier ... They show us round,
not boasting (except in their wine-cellar), not
self-deprecating, merely sharing.
Then the staff brings in food.

From the ceviche through the Caesar he speaks
of the possibilities of wind-farms (his
wind-farms), a kind of supersonic
traffic-cop to reroute migrations,
his interest in desalination. Seeks
always to treat the opposition
lawyers and CEOs, he says, as

people
. One of the exotic
adopted children, defying bedtime,
enters, is hugged and tearlessly nannied
off. From the rosemary lamb and eggplant
parmigian until dessert the guests
hold forth: about some clinic, a program
for convicts; another, equally worthy kind

of program. I hold back but he draws
me out. I speak in a bland, academic
way (it sounds like someone else)
about my work. Downplay
my anarchomarxism. Make
my colleagues sound like public defenders,
case-workers. The surgeon knows

two names; the producer misquotes
Stevens. Our host seems disappointed,
says something about subjectivity
(or “possession”) I can’t quarrel with.
Over coffee the wife presides,
hair glowing in that light as if anointed;
and what she does is so

good, worthwhile, self-sacrificing
(not to mention the kids) that I can’t remember
what it is. The topic of pasts comes up.
“My mother was an addict,”
that husky, perfect or perfected voice
announces. “Of disaster, more
than anything. We moved

from shelter to shelter to SRO ...
I had a terrible early life.”
No silence supervenes – her tone
is neither doleful nor aggrieved –
till I ask, “Do you ever miss those days?”
and she says, “Yes. In a way. Yes,”
and suddenly equality is achieved.



Frederick Pollack
is the author of two book-length narrative poems, The Adventure and Happiness, both published by Story Line Press. Other of his poems and essays have appeared in Hudson Review, Southern Review, Fulcrum, Salmagundi, Poetry Salzburg Review, Die Gazette (Munich), Representations and elsewhere. Poems have most recently appeared in the print journals Iota (UK), Orbis (UK), Naked Punch (UK), Magma (UK), and The Hat. Online, poems have appeared in Big Bridge, Snorkel, Hamilton Stone Review, Diagram, BlazeVox, The New Hampshire Review, Denver Syntax, Barnwood, elimae, Wheelhouse and elsewhere, and are forthcoming in Mudlark. Pollack is an adjunct professor of creative writing at George Washington University, Washington, DC.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Gibb River Frog


Gibb River frogs are very loud. Their sound is often like rasping thick rope over wood, perhaps on the edge of a pearl lugger. Other times (it may be a different species of frog), they balloon out sound in big green belches which rise in volume, stop, and start again. After rain they belch for hour after hour.

Two nights ago, after rain, we were watching Betty Blue, the Director’s Cut, on DVD, when a frog started up on the front verandah, just a thin glass window away from where we sat. The sex scenes were laughable with this green belching soundtrack, so I went outside to shoo him away. He sat solidly on the cement floor. I tried picking him up to move him into the bush but he jumped out of my hand before I had any sort of gentle grip – and landed on my bare foot, where he settled, quite comfortable. I laughed so much my wife came to see what was so funny but stayed back in horror. ‘O, what does he feel like?’ she asked. I replied, ‘Warm and wet, a bit like a freshly caught fish.’ He belched as punctuation, and I felt his fat Buddha body rise and fall on my foot. It felt like some kind of natural blessing, a benediction from the frog world. I would’ve chanted with him if I’d known his tongue.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Part this, part that ...




Okay, our roving friend Dolly managed to have pups some time ago, and we schemed to take one home with us to Perth when we depart from here in a week's time. But rules from vets and airlines, etc, make it impossible, so at least I can now introduce you to the three pups: Zimmy is the light coloured one, and the strongest of the bunch. She looks just like her mother. The middle one is Little Big-Ears because his dad is Big Ears and, you can't see them too well there, but the pup has two big ears that are outsize for his body >g< The littlest one is simply called The Runt, and I feel so sorry for her. She is pushed aside at any meal time and knocked flying inadvertently often by her mother's legs as she tries to suck.

One of the most engaging thing for us to see is that Big Ears, obvious dad to at least one pup, stays with Dolly and the pups all the time. They are a family unit. He definitely has dingo in him, as does Dolly, so maybe it is a dingo thing. I haven't known such patriarchal concern in other canine families I have known.