Lazing in an unbroken innocence;
a whirled undersea, under me.
Blazing tides taking hold of ambivalence
a calm serenity sweeping through the boundless deep.

An oceanic labyrinth,
rolling in the shadows of the sea.

Gazing past an apparent diffidence;
a cold melody for remedy.
Minding these subterranean incidents,
my torn identity plunges in a swirling stream.

An oceanic labyrinth,
roaming in the dimness of the sea.

At oo naman,
oo nga naman;
dapat ay dahan-dahan...
kung hindi ay mabibigla.

Dapat ay hindi binibigla,
kung hindi ay madarama ang puwersa.

Dapat ay hindi pinupuwersa,
kung hindi ay hindi makakababa.

Dapat ay dahan-dahan...
kung hindi ay masasaktan.

sa pag-baba,
sa pagtalon,
sa paglangoy,
dahan-dahan...

sa pag-ibig,
sa pagsisid,
sa paghalik,
dahan-dahan lamang...

it's all occupied with dark fumes of flatulence
      the bus hanger
          it's teething and earning      a low ceilinged thrive

regularly cleaned    the roof portal
   with a large drooping eye
          brags of blue sky
the coaches are idling
   fretful   to be burdened and go

elsewhere
the public urinals
there's a strong smell of iron
are the morning users dehydrated
  malnourished or ill ?
i feel a little flated

elsewhere
in the waiting area
   a neatly turned out teen
    wants to give their seat to the infirm
does not     and hurts inside  averting
(a public act of courtesy
   would   after all   be an embarrassing one)

attention back to the importance
my friend has ungreeted me
  i have wished him ease
  and he has passed between the cordons
amongst amiable cattle
  he pauses at the authorities verification
who   in turn
   tails them to load up their luggage
                    and become their driver

                             - goodbye my friend

do you remember when
all that mattered was
holding his hand

and smelling the sun
on his sunburnt skin
laid on sun-set sand

do you remember when
the only song you knew
was his second name

and now the only dance
your feet understand
is a stance with his toes

can you take me back
the night i cried
like how lampposts died

asking myself why
your moon only shines
when you speak of his smiles

could you take me back to sun-screened streets
where all that mattered were
our touching feet

Eyelids like Terracotta tiles, painted with Salted Wood,
In this Bohemian Magnificence—an appearance of Golden Chrome;
A Contradiction sits in Unconventionality, a Promise of Lovers
In Winter Graves and Spring Cemeteries.

Let the Late Summer Rains flourish the Commas like Grasseeds;
Reap, Sow, and Weep;
Reaped, Sowed, then Wept.

To Whom do you Owe these Trumpet Glares and Immaculate Phrasing?
(Where are the Trumpet Mutes and Wine Glasses?)
Life in the Divine is Life in Vienna—
Life à Douleur resembles Mourning in June.
Show me the Way to go Home—Public, Corporeal Adorations in the Backseat,
Turn left on Palmerston, past Sicilian Cigars and Creole Shrimp;
Towards the Striped Pillowcases and Vaulted Ceilings!
Adorned with our Reflections, of Dried Lavender and Baby’s Breath,
The open Windows let in the Damp Fragrance of Purple Elixirs.

Your Lips, Your Lips Beacon to Tell of my Oriented Past—
And when Midnight comes ‘round, Your Eyes Project my Adolescent Self.
Where did you Find Him?

(You Clutched my Rosary of Constellations in your Left Hand.)

Dear Reader,

If your winter becomes unbearably colder,
your summer a little less hot,
If your spring lacks flowers and colors,
and your next autumn full of drought,

remember that it's summer all year here,
yet my nights are colder since you left.
But I'll be waiting until you're back or near,
to go where or do what,
we'll just have to wonder and guess...

still as the wind
would allow me to be,
witnessing her
as vibrant
as only a dream
would seem.

eyes of green,
eyes of dream,
eyes of fading leaves
in a hot August sun.

still as the earth
would allow me to be,
absorbing her
as impermanent
as only a revery
could ever be.

eyes of green,
eyes of dream,
eyes of shaded clay
under blades of sage.

still as the fire
deep within my heart
could burn.

gazing longer than I should.

still as the the gentle ocean
of her chartreuse eyes,
reveling in her
marble meadow,
with those twin ponds
of green,
in a passe-partout of
ebony locks of wilderness.

gazing longer than I should.
gazing longingly
at her eyes of endless summer,
eyes of green,
eyes of dream.

Down by the Murray River,
where life swims all around;
above and beneath the surface,
in this heat, everything flows.
Beers, BBQs, budgie smugglers and babes in bikinis,
memories bobbing above ground
capturing freedom, post-pandemic and pre-celebrations.

Down by the Murray River,
watching things flow safely and soundly,
birthing new possibilities:
boyfriends, babies, businesses and brews?!
Endless possibilities abound,
prophecies realised; salvation.

Down by the Murray River,
with nature, our souls sing loudly,
simplicity is possible,
trusting and enjoying,
everything is allowed.

quiet high summer nights
waving off mosquito bites
and lips so dry
the tap tastes like nectar
a glass shared is sweeter, better.
soda like opal in the moonlight
should we order in tonight?
leave the window open. though it's raining
this is our little love remaining