unable to watch; your tax used, your txt and browser history stored, in the cold, indefinitely the abyss is on the catwalks, and all the Past is kept as landmarks. I yearn to make mistakes again, to wake on someones couch. or arm, and not know where I am. no maps to get me home…
A work in progress…
Gentle Persephone steps asunder, her bell of shells chuckle after her and he shakes his founders – dead fathers kindled from ancient tinders, hopes writ on the underside of rocks overturned by worms woken to his spirit rousing the ghosts of fertile ground; she skirts the luxury of destruction along a half-moon of jaw, threshed…
Flightless
Friends overseas think it’s eccentric cute that we have birds that can’t fly. It’s not as if our birds are damaged defective, puckeroo. It’s not as if our birds are stupid dense flunked School C flying. It’s not as if our birds are lackadaisical lazy just can’t be bothered. Or too…
drive in the country
you too have asked Who am I & not waited for an answer. meanwhile there’s a house we might live in. some rustic shack & the wet asphalt is streaked yellow. there’s danger in the storm-rent sky, on the crest of hill we feel; it exists – in the mind for…
So you wanna be a poet
Read Colquhoun and Bird they said. Being the girly swot I was called I did. Downtime moments smiling to myself. Not just the gins. The joy of discovery. It was homework, so maybe not discovery. Lonely-Planet-sightseeing then. Even though I quite like Monica. Perhaps this can be forgiven, overlooked, excused on account of…
Toy Otalogo
I came across the book in the corner of a second hand shop old enough the stone step in had a concave scallop. And then from my home, from same but wooden, scalloped step in where the cat lays outside head propped on a mossy rock on top of the daffodils, it became in the…
a tiger tale
a tiger tale for her born in the year of the baker said ‘i will break your bread in my hands and find your fragrance with greedy fingers, your wine will sing in my glass’, she purred in demur and whistled between fangs of new moon ‘my coat would burn your hand in touch, better…
a reading of poetry at the Waikato Museum
I thought to stand on the top stair, check my watch smile for 10 minutes & not talk. it’s pretend, & how do i descend after that sip my drink as if it never happened; digest club sandwiches; delicates; anglosaxon monosaturates &, an hour later, when i’m in-doors & i’m nothing particular… …
Amongst the darkness.
Amongst the darkness. Finding someone that deserved to be loved was something he felt when she shut her eyes. The sadness in her smile that showed a genuine nature. She was smiling through a whole lot of betrayal, pain and loss only to give him what’s left of what was always a genuine heart. She…
Probably Landfill
Too filthy and hefty unfit for kerbside collection. Can’t risk some roaming dog shredding the bags already stretched shiny to bursting my insecurities not just bared but snotty billboards scattered down the road. A deleted browser history the heart I abused a lie told to avoid putting myself out. Tarpaulin tied down. Twice….
Loops
it bangs on all day and we’re shown something similar the next night, so familiar and repetitive is the footage in the valleys Yugoslavia as War appals unchanged that I feel as loose & nowhere as the displaced peoples leaving with their favourite tools and fork sets, the carpets, their rolled up children with faces like lace curtains, dodging…
The Son’s Confession.
One day I’ll be famous, with power and great wealth, I’d be in perfect body of sound mind and good health. Everyone will like me, I’d be of good repute, If a person contradicts me, my butler will refute Them, and put my reputation on a silver pedestal, No-one knows what else I do so…