who will sing for us hear us in love with ourselves only no-one cares if we live if we die that’s different friends we never had speak for us say such & such which is worse than nothing but I didn’t want to talk about that tonight I want us to…
Month: August 2017
beard in-fancy #2
4 the shock of the day is my new auto payment. the poetic interest is anthropological. the personal need is a difficult night to overcome. we are the ripples on the surface of Sleep, giving very little indication of why the water rose up. 40 some seasons of rent paid without a price increase at…
Night and day
In our night-soaked bed we wait, wondering Will these dreams dissolve into clear day Afire with sunrise and hope Or remain ghostly with us for hours. Touching yet still not close Our bodies ache for what may come. She says, ‘We will see’.
beard In-Fancy
1. from behind, in photographs, there is a balding moment when I do not recognise myself; I’m driving, under the speed limit, a work vehicle, towing a green trailer slowly being loaded with refuse. it has two compartments for the Recycling, and a coffin-size lidded box of chemicals and equipment for toilet cleaning. I talk,…
When’s the music gonna stop
Fuck Recycling I’ve grown up believing that the environments problems were mine, that as a consumer I possessed the answer I believe that was pure bullshit I believe that the environmental issues that we all face are a matter for government and the state to make the difficult hard decisions that need to be made…
germinal
I’m here for the burst of rains that score trails across the silences, ‘til my bowels give out or some more spiritual need intercedes, flowering my insides: heels on the street, the memory of her skin; any minute I expect a vision pressed against the glass, looking in. I’m in the mood to conjure…
no other
no other for Keikei i take a love poem penned in arcane script the whisper in candled night of a man to his distant wife, caught away on business at the edge of a crumbling empire and he’s worried for her worries if they’ll meet again before the season turns to blood on steps,…
silence
There’s some time when there’s birds, insects. Weather. Then, flies. Nothing more. This is the end. Germs & such, scum. Although just now a car went past, I hear nothing but the micropods cruising the silence, cracks in the pavement, blades of. Past this, I can’t go.
comet
comet* our dad would tell us his mother held him in her arms i wonder what sleeves what frilled cuffs telling him that star out there a kerosine lamp in god’s hand on the dark of the invercargill night was haley’s comet and he would remember it he did we do the comet goes on…
Press Lane
Steam and stains pave the way for the late man, whisky breath, yesterday’s hangover. He has been out hunting for headlines. His are buried in doubles, grasped with a tremble. He is sought – now. There he is, in the lane where hustlers hide in the falling cold. Snap the red door, get up the…
eroina
She’s a user but sees thru the cracked vision of her high the animal beneath her. She rides all night. Sleeps behind the drawn curtains of day.