April 2010
30 posts
4 tags
this is not a sweet rain
that quenches, washes clean
this rain falls as sewage
in oil-slick colours seeping
rank and stagnant
beneath door frames
breeding black fractals of
mildew that spread
behind wallpaper, floor boards
splintered and curled
i pull my feet beneath me
this is not a sweet rain
3 tags
most words are tossed away
like creatures half-made,
limping from our lips and
driven to the woods
4 tags
lost things take on their own life and out of our sight, go feral slithering inanimate behind bookshelves, moving into the dark between walls deaf to calls and whistles they are the nighttime creak the tapping in the pipes the lost things sleep warm in dusty burrows free from reaching hands, from use and purpose they are content and their numbers grow with each forgotten moment more will watch...
5 tags
and we will go south
down to the fat navel of the earth
to heat and sparkling waters
where the poison things live
and life pulses rainy and green
we will see whirlpools there
and islands like emerald leaves
scattered upon the sea,
then lie between cool sheets
the humidity rising between us
5 tags
4 tags
i am television with the sound turned down
swaying distant trees
a jet seen ahead of its roar
silhouettes crossing in a window
i am text on a screen
you read me between my lines
4 tags
thoughts clouded for such a sunny day
the coffee maker burbles in its darkness
and with hands warmed and half-shut eyes
things are about to become clear
3 tags
it rains until
spring convulses
and erupts colour
4 tags
what is this need to talk music,
old Kerouac blathering jazz
fighting for metaphor, the
synesthetic colour and shape
unrecognized by text, and
even poetry says too much
reaching for that third chord
of a midsummer’s overture
we load it with words
set the turntable arm
to play on a paper record
and hear only white noise
3 tags
we are such clever patterns
4 tags
4 tags
row of little green lights
a soft hammering and
my drive calls up memories
its language magnetic
voiceless, and exact
3 tags
one solitary cricket
outside this city window
brings sleep upon us all
3 tags
mind full of mud
a single thought
takes all day to
find its sluggish way
5 tags
here’s the old jittery fear that bubbles up in recurring dreams of teeth that crumble in my mouth and fall away bloodless and leave me hating that clinic with its grinning staff and enamel-white walls, the mosquito whine of drills and horror suck of vacuum pumps swilling spit and blood, and yet i go regardless if only for the greater fear of what dark hollows might be forming in my smile
3 tags
3 tags
thoughts
in their electro-chemical buzz
do not reflect in mirrors
5 tags
in the bath you and i
are the same body
temperature, and breathing
steam around us
we come clean
7 tags
limping leg-torn
on the news
too surprised and
deafened now
to think about
the damage done
they run, the
ones that can
4 tags
we are born some place in space
at a certain degree to the sun
set spinning at dizzying speed and
every nine hundred forty-two million kilometres
light candles to mark our place
1 tag
so tired that dreams push at the backs of my eyes
impatient, they threaten me with nightmares
4 tags
this anger when it rises in dangerous swells that froth and crash against the square angles of my foundations is a thing that i hold back, but like the child whose finger stops up a failing dike i secretly long to hear those black waters roar
4 tags
1 tag
in a windy country
you live head-down
1 tag
what to do when you are so intwined
that you scarce exist alone
and borders become horizons
beckoning to you both
what to do but love
1 tag
whose voice speaks
between the words in this book
when i fall trancelike
into its pages
and it becomes the world?
4 tags
in hangovers you live in a haze of now
the future and past too painful
needing aspirin to face the present
5 tags
3 tags
i hike the inner paths of my body
all bloody with narrative
grown over with neglect
the tales have grown wild here
they need weeding
or feeding
