TMLYMI v5
out of solace
we marked June with sympathy flowers left on a doorstep. obnoxiously yellow & innocent, followed by the usual surrender it was not language but its inverse cradled between us small words of comfort scattered like breadcrumbs fed to lost pigeons …
the infinity of the other
I listen at the shore of your breathing you end where I can not begin & I begin where you never end where do I return to when I am returning from myself does my presence disrupt the past an …
Somewhere Different
The river washes over my heart with caution— like this is the first time it has ever held a body. Somewhere different, I am born into the same tension. To hold is to recognise; my mother has named a hollow …
Halitosis
I’ve made my peace and slept in it. I dream myself a dragonfly wine drunk on your bedside table, wake to find your face paling in the ache — Linen wretched with longing I grab, reaching — (Show me a …
knock, knock. who’s there? your mum.
your mother is a shopping cart in a newly-paved parking lot, a little apart (see there) from the other shopping carts. and behind that cart is a big old car, and that is your mother also, now that she’s older …
Double Brick Dream
late september sunday afternoon eucalyptus blossom roast lamb in the air I jimmy open the side gate smothered with heraldic wattle and passing through the sunlit thick yellow mottled in lorikeet and native hue here comes the fledgling message bringer …
scattered in colour
scattered as Marcus as he got swept up in frigid Melbourne as drunk as little Nathan buried in Mbembe at A.N.U. spent as the dull complicity in offices proved on poor green me is how damn scattered we are. ‘cause …
money for two (I’m in the one percent)
cento after Elle advice column ‘Ask E. Jean’ This is a benevolent profession Rogue! Poet! Swashbuckler! And excellent at household chores! One day, at a film premier, I met the Irish actor Richard Harris the Henry David Thoreau of Instagram …
Tree
Have you ever seen a yellowing leaf clutching to a tree branch? Listened so carefully you could hear it screaming? The tree is rotting from its roots, but it still grows, It still clings to its leaves. It stands strong …
No one can love the world except God
Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, love for the Father is not in them. – 1 John 2:15 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only …
Gilly G
the night is young because your hand is on my knee resting surely as seventeen conversations warble around us. whose birthday is it anyway? i’m busy falling in love with this couple sitting across the table waxing on about Gilgamesh, …
Five sketches in ink
Nature is impermanent, and so our bodies are inherently impermanent things. Despite our internal homeostatic mechanisms that serve to maintain a physiological balance (that can easily be disrupted), our bodies are in a constant state of flux. So are our …
sealed tight for safety
i call my suburb the god district because there’s a church on every corner because the sunsets here are beautiful because of all the retirement homes here’s where i saw god this week: on night-time concrete, while jumping, singing the …
for desire
in response to Kim Addonizio’s ‘For Desire’ give me his dark curls, his whites & browns & coppers give me the sweetest porridge & the bitter olives that take the longest to cure give me the lover who feeds me …
Dictation Poem One: Profanity Filter
D-I- “Asterix” -K-T-a-T-I-O-N space numeric one. “Enter” that didn’t work. D-I-I-see-K enter D-I-see-say-K see-oh-see-K “I am human am I human?” Enter: space space space space space ha ha; clears throat… “I may have a steady number but at least my …
Mother
The day my mother chose me, a flame was ignited. Her fertility, abundance and generosity fed this light of mine. Until the shimmering radiance of a mid morning’s sun paled in comparison, To my warmth, My kindness, My compassion. Fuck, …
Spiders
Can spiders fall in love? Does one look at the other with an embarrassed secret glance? Do they write poems in silk and, with infatuated mind, run their lover’s name across trees, across corners so that love is hidden in …
Signed, Ready for Duty in Reservoir
a tumbleweed rolls past us / under boom gate / over train tracks i think — it belongs in brunswick more than we do, today i could reach across the gearstick, tell you that tumbleweed…. is a diaspore and a …
for sylvie & the moonee ponds creek
something milked & my tummy rumbles I haven’t seen the sea in so long. I read somewhere that sand is carried by river a product of endless watery movement but let me not be a thing that carries or is …
Impressions
Summer weaves its limbs through the gaps of the dead magnolia. Contact is made with a tendril, lacing up to scale a wall. Outlines of a sky cracked open by branches, pressing static into colourless forms. The shared nature of …
