Tuesday, July 10, 2012


download drama
start the heart chronicles
some sleep  
like new borns
like logs
some sleep
some dress
like a goddess
or a ghost
a dark skinned
and her catch
gleams wet
love is a mixture of sentimentality and sex
tears are used to
tears are used
tears are
there is a graveyard
in the light
ceiling fans make poor compasses
the shaman breathed us to life
if you post the broken into darkness
has it gone?
the ordinariness of love
lightning on trees
inspired by nature
play space
sweetest honey is in the tree
a big screen performs
an untold story
with no end
a band of one played
a diary full of blank pages
engulfs my senses with a midnight kiss
speaks in tongues
maybe the sun will rise
with or without you
waves on a windless day
lichens bleach in the sun
hot forge of two
seasoned with chilli and salt
here is one thing
and another thing
what is this place we are in
on the table mandarin peel
thirty stories of glass
have pixilated the clouds
torn a hole in the sky
love is a violence which compels thinking
you can hear the hammer blows
in the marble slab
see the hand printed
on a wall
cave or brick
Simon Petrus’ feet
rubbed away
place your intercessions at the door
in the place
where they crucified Christ
smashed mirror
reflecting glass x5
chair on the lawn
waits for a sunny day
under a grey sky
I don’t know what love is
if I have stolen
I am sorry

Monday, July 9, 2012


My son walks                                            I walk
the streets of New York                        the streets of Kalgoorlie
in his red ugg boots                                in my red-dirt stained runners
made in Bindoon.                                   made in Taiwan.

He counts one hundred and forty seven American flags.
I count one New Zealand
           one Danish
           one Republic of Ireland.
I see an Australian flag
caught in a white cedar
being shredded in the wind.