Exiting that dark box with the crowd - Catharsis I dap my friends up, trot off In my comfy Salomons, up to the cultural centre. Board the 345, rest my head against the glass. See the lights of the highway and the reflection of the river dance in between the bridges railings. Subterranean Against the window, Watch the different peoples faces as the walk down the isle She’s going to make someone smile He’d be nice to have a beer with She’s missing home I bet He’s probably someone’s dad They’re new to Brissy. Hop off, power walk back to the house over wavey KG hills. Pass Queenslanders with pink lit rooms Warmly suspended units Glowing windows in distant terraces Glancing into every home, a fraction of a life at time Feeling a part of it all Cross the road Inspect the curb side collection Almost don’t notice the watering can - Perfect, I can use this for my new plants Come inside Write this poem Marnie in my headphones Solitude And surrounding suburbs.
2. Paris Texas
Driver don’t slow down now Keep going Don’t drop me to my house I don’t want to be anymore I wanna look out the passenger window forever I wanna to be a gaze with no body I wanna be incorporeal Rid me of this vessel and the weapon it conceals I don’t want to be the perceiver, just the spectator Looking out at shimmering office blocks Meshes of rushing leaves Languid and fluid Evaporate me into the Ether Undo my flesh and with it, sin I don’t want to be anymore Make me into one of those angels , floating around listlessly Clip my desires and give me wings Drop me in the Texas dirt, and wipe my guilt away.
3. Perfect Days
Coming into that bright globe Reality I hug my sister goodbye , I’ll see her again tomorrow But after… The sun on my skin , from euphoric to swampy The facade of happiness or stubborn sadness Arbitrary either way My legs carry me across the bridge, I see so many people I will be okay without them I see a little beetle struggling on its back, my finger goes down to turn him over I contain multitudes I am not the best or the worst of what I’ve done I am brown Brisbane water Stretching out to blue pacific sea Don’t chase that ghost of euphoric transformation Change is constant and gradual, like rocks worn by water Like rivers changing shape Come into yourself Returning agency Over lapping Shadows of perfection 52 days.
3 poems based on 3 movies written on 3 different occasions after viewing