my efforts to improve the keyless entry experience for passengers, to hit it hundreds of metres away unnoticed, to never be caught fishing in my pockets again / email as a multi-modal artform – the contemporary usage of passive-aggressive tone combined with a non-subtle CC / how super fast i can run! / the overall impression of my instagram feed: activity for vibrancy & humanity + landscapes for colour variation, the sense of place, i think / green eyeshadow / favourite sitting spots – the seasonal variation of the house & its best inner-locations / back-channel gossip / the amount of pillows i can arrange on my bed, the patterning & complexity / mayoral quirks / smiling vs :) / sunset studies, then night sky clarity, how nice it is to make out the milkiness of a galaxy / scrappy attempts at finding that space, a solo calm / petty competitiveness / emoji art / poems about what she’s wearing / failing to keep my mind off these things nobody cares about / the books i’m reading / social plagiarisation / a herbal tea bag over my left eye / nail polish & the cuticle re-growth, so cute / my cake making plans / lists of personal things
a double helix some wispy dna
driven into the edging / tarmac
to bike path to dirt reminders
of liminality / signs are perfect
equilateral triangles cast from
behind / perfect shadows to
disassemble underfoot /
naming things / verbless
& un-joined / running
one week. mostly it’s the sounds that impress, the rumours of events that gather import as they travel in the empty house. a slammed car door. the bin wheels on concrete, a rumble that could mean anything. low voices pass in the night only one wall away. sure i was alone in that housing commission unit, that time. it was a long way back. maybe it’s the remnant of danger resurfacing. the way sound could & did mean something a little more. a break in; a stabbing; strangers at the door. it’s the flipside of peace-&-quiet, the sudden ruptures breaking a calm surface. mostly though it’s nothing. a deliberate nothing. i watch parks & recreation & read. i sleep without a reference point, without consideration, soundly. if the girls worry they don’t show it & also, if they’re resilient there’s little evidence. this is simply is the way it is. ours is a weekend life. the potential for alternate courses perhaps only exists later, in retrospect, when you’re older. had this happened / et cetera / the assignation of blame. objects remain obscenely ordered. silly. the plush toys static & a dearth of dishes. the cat trails me, knocking over mantle-piece-pieces. she paws at the frosted shower door, meowing for nothing. it angers me but i forgive pretty quickly. so much for personal qualities. she’s just lonely for that rough affection, now curtailed. i talk mainly into this void & i guess it’s ok.
a draft for public feedback. talk to me about it. or anything. kind of at the lowest ebb.
breezy nylons. repeating blue &
white circles, grey cottons for the
plasticitiy or nighttime imprint.
just all the fabrics since ever.
black as a shade all intimacy
& rarer, that sharp sitting pose
then a swaddling it’s unmapped
territory. stripes a crescendo
of formality, scarf as addendum
(an evening whisky with the laptop)
oh plus impractical shoes.
the sound of breathing sounded
lifeless, posted: the leaves, so,
gold-on-red / you know? peering
over the rental’s fence, intruder
in a plan b town, laneway puddle
hurdler. ‘never drive for groceries
again’. pathways for the wretched.
my future speculative rendered in oils:
head turned, a sci-fi vantage, image
triggers this abandoned account
backlog, 200 odd weeks back.
if not never then logically now. see i fill the
house when alone. like now. spectacularly
alone. thoughts + my complimentary bathrobe
+ et cetera. someone’s squatting on your first
username, a springboard for her personality,
the underscore unwitting but the cuteness
a real thing, remaining (if not never, then
logically now). the fingers of my left hand
search for a better word than ‘tingle’, a memory
more profound than the language of sense allows.
yet. i’m a ballad of avoidance – the sparkling wine
receipt so telling – & my rhyme scheme all too
predictable. if not never then tell me.
i think. either way. i can’t sleep.
tagging the images productively
seconds drained was it rain / was it
more the icicle emoji & is this
#change or a mandala
of unravelling / i’m not good
in any other format here all
disappointments stay tied-down,
under control / the poem shudders,
resists temptation, but writes: that’s not
fair / wrote: you can’t leave things out
once they’ve happened & did i
ever expect that of / the cat
only wants warmth, pushed close
to me & zadie crisps her toes
under the tv, but / left out the key
word, wore it like a mantle into
the main street, bought coke,
used the exclamation mark / so.
unplanned solid occurrences: you
met her & cared so much / you
wanted to not feel that / you
tried, couldn’t, can’t
an idiot as judged by the shadow
of friends derek scalds the coffee.
the loudest car-stereo in the town-
ship exists as an echo, like, when
you liked me more (bees adrift on
other winds, intrigues, window-
framed) wanting to see things want-
ing to hear yes i’ll step on a grass
thorn & it’s before: he’s missing that
more / unflagging interest & the
imagined look about the eyes,
forever inquiry, prettily flecked
& filtered, instances of saying any-
thing. oh i’d do anything while
scratched & opened (looking
forward to the wine uncorked
before the party impulse fogging
your attentive nod) for you i
changed the icon sick of looking
at my own face. what is falling
in love when it’s typed & bare /
so this is the contemporary edit.
anyway new guidelines for calm:
are you there? a mess of interaction,
historically (derek thumbing for
sentiment in the thesaurus) & now
i don’t want to wait. in the glow of
a device maybe a pitch change
to indicate the winding up,
the daft progress of sleep.