half a smile ago
half a smile ago i was this kind of person half a mile ago we saw the situation worsen a bathroom tile ago we were showering off the dirt of the day into the trough do you know where you are? if…
Category: Poetry
too busy doing other shit
you turn around and realise you missed half the year by being busy elsewhere the world moves on and poems get written but what box do you put them in? what is art worth? what is poetry? where is your head at?…
anticipated end
in anticipation of the end we hang depend watch the day distend we have been organising books avoiding cat-claw hooks treading across the carpet naked from the shower all the towels in the laundry trying not to leave wet patches we are…
not miles away
sucking on a popsicle acting like i’m kane in kung fu walking the ghost town where sitting down earns you stares fuck the never theres fuck the half awares i’m not depending on traffic lights i’m not waiting on hard shoulders i’m…
are fur note
half a note yesterday passed to a teacher who appeared in a zen moment that said you are ready i’m running a kerouac road with the engine howling like ginsberg where it terminates an orchid blooming in liquid nitrogen fog turning after…
a music, a painting
how free do you feel about saying fuck off? leaning into the wind of the stare of another? brother motherfucker tell some shithead he’s a stupid sucker i’m a music i’m a painting this is an “is” thing it ain’t an “ain’t”…
watch the birds
i’ll sit here and you sit there be aware i’m sending up a warning flare this is healthscare not healthcare spinning out of some kind of mistake in the heart of the people the waves break just how much are you able…
only ten people
like it’s a fucking selling point time and body out of joint the kind of day you want to anoint with a sneeze, with a cough everything feels kind of off but let us revel in the fucking trough people falling to…
every lessen
every lesson a dull head learns is something that a dull heart earns in the field the body burns narrow in the fallow until the crop returns flowers nodding seeds into the breeze colours bright amidst the dance of bees we were…
the wait of unknown soldiers
the weight of unknown soldiers here on unknown shoulders shrugging up from climates that are colder and seem more so as we grow older dead stories in a manila folder all the fields of fossilised truth not run away; that raintrap youth…