Poems
You used to laugh about
Ink stamped with promise's swagger
it's the sort of day where an outdoor shower
tosses a rainbow
as you wash the sand from your feet.
& some of my favourite things
are the shafts of light the canopy
lets through on Seven Mile Beach Road.
We have come to expect nothing less
than the perfection of the sonnet form.
Attraction isn’t as simple as
a satellite's celestial mimicry appears from the beach
but if we get out ahead of the story
we'll be better prepared to be
steamrolled by the heart's hijacked bus
Silver Stain
aca had no halcyon days in barcelona
tonight majorcans dine late while wondering
we wander about the minotaur at the centre
of this maze courtesy of the art department
the camera pans over decontextualized headlines
a subbie’s leather never touched pavement
it seems like we should be more worried than we are
every month rises sneakily like a base jumper
scaling a new skyscraper’s skeleton we need
enough rooms to survive what comes next
that’s why she says we’ve built more homes
in the inner city in the last decade than we did
in the first hundred years of course every
panjandrum prognosticates and every
brave idea needs an orthodoxy to dismiss it
we want our tv to be friendlier like a mother
who loved us more than we deserved
don’t be afraid if you’ve got the dowry i’ve got the brides
it’s important he’s found guilty but
that we must know about it
is the false jewellery the smith wont buy
turns your wrist green