she spoke and it was sunlight
wrapping around my face.
through the glare I made out
pearl-pupils,
+ papery hands (white, thin)
a fragile head.
and
I flinched;
love keeps us still
like a kick in the ribs
makes us gracious:
how can I
live my li(f)e
With her clicking her melodies behind my ear?
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
I could embrace you, and wake up the next morning w/ you protruding from my open wounds
Let you squeeze me like a stone
until verse pours from me like blood or water
pure
and never change
unless you'd be down for that
or whatever.
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
exit sweet exit
an endless end, the colour
of transparency.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 1:55 AM UTC
i cranked up the amp
to ten, as the chord rang out
scaled the speaker
i could see townshend
from my peak; fell, splintered the
bass. so this is rock.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 3:39 AM UTC
Once again I'm lost
Big Billboard Ronald McDonald
tells me to embrace summer but how
with the air con in its death throes + baking tar breath.
In the back with heat stroke + around
thoughts
mixed
**** your seatbelt I'm decomposing
Read too much Burroughs
Read too much Fear and
Loathing
+ all I can think about are mistakes and exes
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 3:28 AM UTC
If I didn't have a li(f)e to live
a job to work + bass to play
approval to earn/crave/earn/crave again
I could just be like Annie
talk to the flies
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 3:25 AM UTC
[i]
No soaring pain could match her, draped across a dying flame.
Like cinder,
she whisper-whistled through lungs thin, teeth sallow,
a promise in song.
“Towera jinner mulbeena,
Poodinyoober mulbeena.”
It was a good promise;
belonged to everyone
and wouldn’t change for Tomorrow’s ranges.
It asked for nothing
but patience and faith.
From where she lay,
the trees, gums, were akimbo.
[ii]
For generations she had walked, through the wettest of wets and driest of dries.
With hope in her ribs and a nature savage and pure.
You could break her, throw her to the cockatoos,
And yet, ***** and punctured,
like driftwood, she would drift back,
Blossoming in your lap again.
[iii]
When the kangaroos have done their dance
in the twilight.
There she'd been.
Supine. Broken open and
lily-white (on the inside).
and we did this.
with our prospecting and land grabbing
we did this,
with our parking lots and Starbucks cup
she was dismembered, priced, "loved," owned.
discarded.
to the meek edge
of an eternal flame ****** to embers.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 3:39 AM UTC
i broke my legs and
threw myself across your back
in the hope we'd soar.
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 3:30 AM UTC
Before you collapsed
back to the blank face of Ys,
back onto damp sands,
just for an instant,
I stopped. (in my desk chair)
and saw
your spires, heard your swollen bells
and smiled in the sun.
You rose in earnest,
sang to the horizon(!)
the casual and the causal.
the waves eddied around
you and suddenly,
as easily as you drew
from the seabed,
you let me know,
everything that matters
(one day)
collapses.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 2:25 AM UTC
there are a lot of angles
to a dead fish:
for instance -- I miss you and loved you for who you were
+
I take responsibility for your passing.
(I stuffed you with pellets
I raised you in
the cruel waters of rural Australia
Alkaline screamed through your lungs
While I watched in wonderblivion)
+
I thank you for returning me
to stone turning and badly drawn animals
and most valiantly
(and at a poor cost)
getting me to pick the pen up again.
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC