like never

murder we wrote on our iphone; a blogging burst.

remembered my hair on the wind if not me in time,

taking the easy bliss, wayfaring a crust of the great

ocean road, ditch-dumb & secured against felt-hats,

glib out of the green, rasping the hearth of every rsl.

a deleted alpha-numeric-string whips up sunlight,

against larvae patterns sight-unseen, sonar groper

dreamt mid-ovulation. i moved in with my parents.

cavafy on the trampoline like it’s the boxing-day test.

he came made of foil & an indeterminable half-life,

looked nice, spotty not dappled cluing us in to swarm-

universals, ho-hum, correspondences. listserv my

luscious heart out. you suck but hey: earnest eviction-

papers eyed by the common swallow. how about me.

pedantic gender

inchoate: this valuable, your ear, fat.

gorse time over oceans / yo come hither mate.

wily vestibule in the states; home of not-knowing.

orgiastic manifold swooshing open & i’m time-travel.

who said anything about caesuras? you’ll see.

dogs refuse to learn tricks; books on harmonica mastery

occur in places though seem completely non-coincidental.

luck, wood-wax, vibrato, unorganised condensation.

grafting a didactic poésie onto one’s buttocks.

she labelled everything problematic, she failed her.

epics like the way you compromise afternoons

after a wine-rack & toast rollick. resemblance

free-floats but we’re butterfly.

reading material

i do have some physical tasks at hand today, namely the dreaded vaccuuming / mopping, but i think that i will be spending some time browsing through the poems in cordite 29: pastoral, edited by stuart cooke. 

in his generous editorial, cooke semi-defines the pastoral thusly: 

At its very core, a poetics of farm and bush is an exploration of Western experience at the limits: taken from its urban confines, it is poetry of the human confronted with the far-more-than-itself.

i like the idea ‘poetry of the human confronted with the far-more-than-itself’, & look forward to seeing how the poems selected fill out such a statement.

best back page

documented verve confounds us into slots of hours of bytes:

your thingness ever smaller when you reach eighty packaged

into segments, film-splices showing the glamorous colours

we invented a cure for in the 90s: & ideas well are shrink-

wrapped into your stupid outburst (pocket-size emotion).

past to belie story; always is maybe best. old light is a scent

at times & more wandering demonstrates intractableness,

her first love, after saying when will exciting come! was i broken

into a nobody? breathe my blind &gathering hillside now it’s

like midnight on tv – sections to preface everything, old-age

looking tonight falser than east is difficult, wrecked like paths

between ferrous outcropping (who means what, eg or etc).

sleeping through travel or hardening foreshores. in fifth-hand

suits we sacrifice all can-do, holiday, nightly miss the sun –

a didgeridoo clambers muffled to a stop. every silence is pesky

since time through splendour, mornings here at one hundred,

abandoned minerals stirred into the burgeoning sense of sanity.