1 In the slackened-off momentum of a Holy day, the Machine left to idle, I put on someone else’s shoes, wore unfamiliar clothing, styled my hair a way I’m not accustomed, found the walk, in the shoe, and allowed that through, limb and thought. Then put that self to walk, at the rural fringe suburban,…
Tag: identity
from Short March Walkabout #2
I’d misread the map and got off at the wrong station. it had an elevation which satisfied my sitting out the morning watching the trains leaving squealing into fog lit spectacularly; a lady crying, a barking dog, a shopping trolly shepherd in a hiViz, humming wires clicking above the tracks bolted into place on cloud-coloured…
from Short March Walkabout
IV to lay—in the dark intoning in tune with the waves moaning in purposeless calm is to know this, I cannot, in the object hold (the) ‘myself’ inside this busted-lock of surf beach changing room without the cold suspicion that the ‘I’ who moves the green pencil across the narrow page of an complimentary Agriculture…
from: Igo Ego
A honey bee has landed on my pen. It walks inside the cave my holding the pen makes, pushing its triangle head between the fingers the way small dogs burrow after objects meaningful to their ways. I was wandering the late morning where the river and the sea fill looking for clues to validate, or…
what am I without you
4 [an excerpt] what am I without you telling me? to look upon us, two of us in darkness, with barely enough skin lit to establish our age, the gender or the race unharnessed from your own density, even that against the odds beyond our reach, a some‘thing’ always is and doesn’t offer proof of…
Midnight’s Height
Note: Low Is The New High. 14.11.2016, 12.02am, the town where I live experienced a 2 minute, 7.8 earthquake, lifting the land by as much as 2 metres, creating, in the former lowest Lowtide line, the new Hight Tide mark. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ….