I saw this and thought of—let me know if you need—you must be bombarded with—there’s no pressure to—sending you so much—I’ve been thinking a lot about—actually this reminded me of you and your—you are one of the strongest people I—I am so proud of—he would be so proud of—are you—just bring—please text me when you…
I will stop reading love poetry. I will stop writing love poetry. I will stop having feelings like love and desire for poetry. I will have feelings like I belong in every home in America and if you push me out of a tall building I will kill everyone in my path. I will become hard, and cold. And sleek. Very sleek. Clean…
Now, your job is to turn the scary things sillyIt is exhausting and vaguely patronising Do you know how hard it is to chit chat at a social event while picturing smashing the bowl of your wine glass and driving the sharp stem into your throat? What have I been reading? Oh, nothing highbrow And…
#noragrets flying high # i say put it in my obituary # say thati sold my soul # but never to the devil # i killedmyself and i killed her # i killed my dreams andthey killed me # tell them i blew all the cash on #wishes spending time throwing up # throwing it…
A day of westerly gales,fallen branches, leafage, willy-williesclattering the car’s panels with grit.White wavelets to the left of the causeway.You in the passenger seat, sewing labelson two improv art quilts, the finishing touch.North of Bodalla, two trees down,closing a lane, ours the one moving;a big man in fluoro gear trotting to assess,his ute flashing yellow…
I drop in, she hugs me, offersfive kinds of tea, finds biscuits.Up close, her neck is a country mileof sundrenched hills and valleys.She is solidly fit, walksto the Four Square. He: beer-keg belly,ruined back. She shows me a poemshe wrote for him on one of their tripsto the beach. They’ve been a couplesince high school.…
The town over sells fresh honey and chutney.We must have lost the arms race, as our farmers’ market isnow filled only with familiar faces. The prices are fixed, like vice grips onto framed timber.Bartering is punishable by death. I have died a thousand times and, like Christ,walked past the rolled stones,nails in my soft hands.…
The Dogs When I think of the dogs I think of the clatter of biscuits in tin bowls,of chain on corrugated iron. Working dogs live outside and incidentally outside is what you say when you want them to leave. You saygettawayback you saywayleggoyou say come by, come by. Speak up. Once when I was four you had…
the tall grass shades under the mānuka groveriver drifts by: blushed with carplads lying, sentimental, at heart fertility pulses in the veinsmen men till they’re nota torn convoluted plot whole tumble of misfortunegrass scratching against the thighsthe river gliding, her eyes wheat-weary grass-cudding tunesandwich-up on the mud-moss bankfeet pressing, none to thank Brett Cross has…
A Stuffed Owl in a Museum Potatoes in a box at the bottom of a rack,bitter greens bunched in twine, the cold air.The shop is dim inside, packs of sliced bread in brown paper bags. No soy or rice milkat this grocery store. I buy a bag of spinach,rinse the soil in the sink, pull the…