Anyway, you are not here. You are – It doesn’t matter – Elsewhere. I could have told you, for the umpteenth time, About my thoughts (such as they are) And how they centre on you. Or us. As we were. There was a time, before our eyes dimmed When we thought each other handsome. I…
Month: May 2017
inferno
We descend, then, to a place of greater pain. Here darkness reigns, lit by the long hum of afternoon; fluorescent tubes, monologues at the dinner table; a bedside lamp, in daylight a spent moon. Men hate their jobs, wives, their bastard children; and women, themselves, spouses, long impotent with rage. For a time we…
Chieko
*Chieko’s sky i saw a film about her once, Chieko, married to the famous japanese sculptor a poet too who could write strong things in the worst of times, i don’t know if Chieko could. she was mad mad the way the mad are who have to do too much living in one head one heart…
Last Days in The Sun
The cricketer in autumn; Deliveries so many leaves Falling, trailing where once They spun and dipped; When he cocked the wrist Venom flicked from upturned hand; Parabolas of slow death Rolling out, shining. So long ago, when the sun Loosened the fingers, when He bounced in on his toes And knew. Just knew. That each…
in entering
caution: contains erotic content a lovely little mouth she wouldn’t take her top off her apple-small breasts, dormant in middle school if you were to guess had swelled with milk and feed her children, then flattened like two bits of quilted doona. she’d shared the seat, behind me on the bus, with another from the…
for love
for love when my aunty heard the news her grandson her ‘boy’ she’d say killed head-on just starting to fit the frame of a grown man she stopped dead in her tracks two days on. she had lived though years of rationing, long silences out on the farm moving to a small town with a…
light/sound
the white wave like you deep in the next room breathing, flaxen hair dreaming; midnight, frond leaves fan the sky; at dawn, ravens. the hall: a foot fall, a shoe unknown to you in this light
from Sandy Rooms #3
a. I was woken on the book-wide bench in the less-used changing rooms nearby the zoo by the light of a recording instrument three teenage boys and a girl I knew the scenario safe and stayed still pretending to be asleep so they could film and µpload I hoped for proof of the artist’s backstory…
abstract body art
The face is an abstract noun but her eyes, for instance, rose in the half- light, describe & the lips O, & tongue; roll: my girl, vowels are the curves, except I, which is mine. verbs spur the hands & consonants, the prick post-coitous: tenderness, remorse; your face lit with concrete particulars;…
How Was Your Day?
Caution: contains erotic content I didn’t know if she could see me, the woman, in her 50’s, a sport shape in the shoulders, squash or tennis I’d guess, but now with the belly fat of feasting; blond -assisted, cut nicely short; her breasts were not much bigger than softballs and sat up separated by the…
That girl, From The Party After The play
someone I didn’t know slept on next to me. I didn’t wake her when I rose, sickened, to medicate from the cool frigates moored in the harbours of the mind. and any apprehension left me as I lit the first enrolment form and moved the blanket covering a long spine, cellulite, a few pimples to…
come dusk
come dusk to Franz Kafka at Plana nad Luznici* come dusk come dusk come dusk you’d step out with the landlady’s dog for a long walk first to the luznice river then across to the woods beyond the fine villas the shrubs on empty lawns like a waltz around them paused in mid-step the quiet…