Category Archives: Original Poetry

sound

She cuts the waves so fine & the sea breathes long grass stilled & blows.   You could stray in a sea of wheat all day if there’s nothing more or walk behind the street an ear for the waves of her feet as she goes. she                                                                                                                               as

necklace

I count the beads on your string as your lips form shapes which give substance to the emptiness of air, & meaning. I go   on like this, hours, fingering your pearls, feel minutes drop, lose my way & when you’re still, it’s like everything else is.  

temple

even the birds need to shut up.   everyone does & everything.   long live silence! with my ear muffs   on so tight not even light can escape them.   they’re industrial. all i hear is the throb   of my head, if that.

2 sisters

When i got there she was on her back & her sister   who’s like eighty herself wasn’t much help. We pulled her   up but she died & after that i thought about it, her stiff   board, the flaked bits of her skirt & cardigan, the stink of   dog, how heavy she […]

the worm behind the man

When you look at me you see the glass   only. When you split   my head/ knead the bits… what is it   but nerves of a smile, words   in the dark if I must, bend.

kill my buzz, i deserve it

kudos to you, i said, good for you & he went on                  &   more dead than ever i laid down   heard                           birds                            the breeze slipped in &                 if                                  anything i was happy

You’ve done that again?

Think if you can a picture Of you and I embraced in a kiss Feel how I tremble inside Sorry if there was something I missed Outside tonight We can take on the cloak of the dark Before the dawn of another day He said this is what it sounds like When purple doves cry […]

our solitude

rub the dark spot of her solitude, her ribbed feathers                               down   ..                                             give, the water here                  is   mottled, spun by the late sun,                 high clouds & gulls   heading out.   & still                                     we’re alone even when I sanctify these gentle folds beneath the                       cold heavens.  

muses, help me

Is it true if you is cool hang loose lie still long enough you can see the animals of the garden, trees as symbols, the soft gods that dwell among the first knot of men, curious; the careless weeds free of the tyranny of summer lawns – man before   the law. I am done. […]

distractions

The cat                                    sprang across the lawn   the bird between his jaws                                   I hadn’t thought   much of it                                because I was caught   on the …   A friend won big                                   on the Melbourne Cup                       Was   too drunk to call on my birthday which is cool   & this […]

afterword

there’s no future in writing poems about writing poems.   the critics of the next age will know you crapped out   with nothing better to say.   This poem, for example, is nothing   apart from what it says & what it does   to you – to see me go – as the […]

unfinished scraps

because I’ve had every sickness there is, I’ve become immune to everything.   I don’t care that you’re violent, say things that aren’t true,   & that I talk when it makes no difference.   2   my dog got his eye cut, & now we’re looking for some left-handed cat last seen heading north […]