The same mosquito in my bedroomNow in deep winterHow
A vicious storm rages.The wattlebird clingsto the wattletree.
The split spacebetween stump and sky –an elegy.
what can be said about The weathered stoicismOf the restaurant owner sitting alone among his patrons, desiring nothing more than to just be another one of the bloody imbeciles which surround him. The sarcastic delightOf the ex-gambler who, now in sensible middle-age, games the supermarket coupons and the highway lanes home only to risk it … Continue reading wolf-whistling in the wind
Life a long fart interrupted
As it was washed down the drain,the daddylonglegsgave one last dance.
A thinner friend congratulated though he seems less jolly.
Everything half a lie, strewn across subjectivitiesoozing out unaccountably across the Earth. Every friendship a performance,Every love a social contract. And the world a dusty attic of thingswhere soon you too, waddling catatonic,will be all mucked and tucked away,like old Elvis records and owl ornamentsin a low dark space. Desperately beyond telos & before origin, … Continue reading Like a good old friend
Chatter as you like about our towers & tramways,you can admire a spider's webbecause you are not a fly. Chatter as you like about the nobility of nature,you can admire a spider's webbecause you are not a fly.
I escaped my mother's bodyonly to end up in my own,barely managed to slip awaywith the crumble of my bone.Now I wander withered fieldsalmost free of earthly shame,rubbing away with a toothbrushthe engraving of my name.