Thursday, September 26, 2013

hard rubbish

she put it on the verge
mouth set in one straight line 
this was the last of him  
fold up bed where he slept
after whatever it was had 
blown out
blown up
blown away
the hump backed tele
like them — no longer worked
love nest mattress
just looked stained
his clothes
his boots
his shaving cream
book of Australian love poems
back broken
beer fridge with footy stickers
half finished novel
palm fronds she waved
before she saw
he wasn’t going to save her
she wasn’t going to save him

hard rubbish

Monday, September 23, 2013


first light, coffee brews
campers air sleeping bags
over no camping signs