abstract landscapes




songs          hit        the          voice box      |   &       you strut

the      boards      |    strip        off       your           shirt       |   the

Ides of March     is         tattooed      on        your        chest       |

a folklore          threatens     |      exposure         |        sirens          

chuck            rocks     |       &     a      continent        shifts




one man |       jumps        into         a        philosopher’s     shadow  |

becomes        a          hemlock sniffer           |     hot      on         spirits     

on           toxic          emanations         |          a     poppy collector     |    

 calls        it         a            stumbling          matter          |    defies           

gravity’s      tug        |          &          lights  up            his        abstract         

version          of            an            eruptive              landscape








heads       |      tails             pull apart    |    things          disintegrate        
fly off                in              different          directions      |              the         

earth’s           bubble         bursts        |         the        earth’s          dust       

settles          |    you          live          high       up          in an apartment              

walking       on        floors             made of clear shattered glass





jagged         mountains          herd         coloured          gods

in women’s clothing       |        &        the        lawns     smoke

of            lovers’ lives          |         of boundaries         stretched

to accommodate              strangers                circulating        at

your party        |          you wear          an          orange      scarf      |      

visualise             an            orange             birthright        | people

living            by            the             river        |          temples

drifting         |         where          clouds             should be       |

plants            pulled          free           from          their            roots


poet's biography —>