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BTW Jan 2022
CFM
CFM.  (Adult)
5 January 2022

Hunger-wearing-black-booted-
Midnight-shadow-street-corner-­blue-
Bartender-bassoon-smooth-wailing-horn,
Tonight pull me while I'm burner-raw-torn.
Desiccate-night-thirst wake me. Tease.
Moon CFM drown me, break me.
Roaming-desert-music, seize me.
Viola-tight-throat-hum-love, sting!
Tonight no hope, I need to sing.
yesterday, we were at the art gallery, wandering hand in hand, ducking into corners when rowdy groups of school kids ploughed past, sneaking kisses by the displays.
i had blisters on my toes, a product of them rubbing against the sides of my boots (on the train beforehand you leaned over and whispered into my ear that they were cfm - standing for come **** me - boots and i was astounded and pleased and trying not to make eye contact with you on that crowded standing-room-only train, wondering if other people could read our ***** thoughts) so i'd pulled them off and was slipping and sliding in my socks on the wooden floors.
it was a perfect day, really, but the only piece of art i remember seeing was you.
friday 18th july '14 ~ yesterday i went to the gallery in melbourne at federation square ~ i didn't kiss anyone, but he kissed me on the cheek
BTW Feb 2022
Toilet Seat
23 Feb 2022

Broken-day, torii brick shard, lying grey furred furrow.
Dust scarlet covered berm, breaking morn of plain plaid kids, unearned plastic, horror films.
Bones were home, no  longer borrowed.. They never lived.

White marbled Torso held court in  dark brown sack, dreaming bloodied, past ivory beige scars.
Soil green-lined paper reel, only new light, burning orange in midnight star wars.
Seal pink toilet seat stays, winds farrow, foul blast exaggerated by cracked silvered mirror candle, weeping.
Broken azul sky, cloud black bar. A red bacardi label, torn, 3 rusted cars..

Ash, twisted ***** sculpted tan oak, on a blue T shirt.
Somehow resting, orange flat steeple *****.
Reminds past heroes were longer, discarded, purple neutered..

A nose and an ear. Vulvae. A smashed CFM TV.

Somehow these pieces form the picture of tall thunder.
Holding me here.
Chaos grows on my living room floor, wait!
I  lower the toilet seat, crying over a dead cow, last night's beer.


Today I will hold my own.
Reflections on a crazy broken world including the Ukraine.

— The End —